


Heels Over Head - Fantasy Season 2 - Written by Miss Miko

by kellankyle



Series: Heels Over Head - Written by Miss Miko [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Out of Character, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 310,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellankyle/pseuds/kellankyle
Summary: What happens immediately after the end of Episode 22.





	1. Disperse the Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> **Ratings:** All stories are NC-17+ (some NC-17+infinity)  
>  **Note:** All stories are in chronological order  
>  **Warning:** _These stories are not for the QAF purist and feature non-canon characters and situations. If you're only interested in reading about Brian and Justin as they are on the show, don't waste your time with these stories, just pop in your DVDs or VHS tapes and knock yourself out._

_I see him, now the clouds begin to disperse/ To reveal a wonderful presence, a presence full of love/ He is so lovely, standing there looking after me/ Seeing just how I feel, the presence of love itself *_

 

In an instant, he was drowning. He took a deep breath and raised his head but the sensation persisted. He couldn't move his limbs. Could only feel himself slipping beneath the surface, unable to save his own life. Nothing left to do but give up then, let go. He closed his eyes against the fading light...

...and felt someone's hand upon his neck, holding his head above water. He didn't know whether to thank him or curse him. Michael had come. Sat stroking his hair. Only, he took no comfort from it, from Michael's presence. Blinking back tears, he took another, cautious breath, not convinced that he was out of danger yet. And he wasn't. His eyes widened and he saw

He and Justin and Michael laughing and running down the hospital corridor the night Gus had been born. Saw himself turn and look back at Justin, not once, but twice, the teenager laughing, trying to keep up with him. Why? Why had he looked back when it seemed logical that his future lay ahead of him, nestled in his mother's arms, in the room at the end of the hall. Why had he turned? What did he think he would see in Justin's face?

A tear slid along side his nose. He would give anything to go back, to still be running down the corridor with Justin laughing behind him. Anything. He sensed Michael moving, turning to look down the hallway, presumably for Jennifer and Deb; but he couldn't. He couldn't turn and not see Justin running after him. So he stared straight ahead and let the tears come as they would; the feeling that he was drowning having returned. 

 

They had just entered the main waiting room when Deb and Jennifer rushed through the doors. Seeing Brian, Jennifer attacked. "You left him alone! Why did you leave him?"

"No," he whispered, the pain in his chest growing. "I didn't... I didn't leave him."

"Why weren't you with him! If you had been with him, this wouldn't have happened! Why did you leave him? Why?" she asked again, in a voice that begged to be given a reason, any reason why he had failed to protect Justin.

And how could he explain that Justin had gone back to get Daphne, to see her home like a good prom date should; that he and Justin had planned to meet later; that something had changed between them, standing there next to the jeep, in between one breath and another, the whole world had changed. But he couldn't find the words, the strength to tell her had fled.

"Jen. Honey." It was Deb. "Honey, let's find out where Justin is."

The desk nurse, having observed the exchange, called to them. "Are you Mrs. Taylor?"

"Yes," said Jen, panicked.

"You can go back. Someone'll meet you." She pointed to the glass double doors behind them.

Jennifer pushed through and rushed down the corridor.

Released by her departure, Brian stumbled away from Michael and his mom.

"Brian..." Michael called, but Brian didn't stop and, for once, Michael didn't follow.

Deb's gaze switched from Brian's back to Michael's face. She could see the pain there, from the realization that Brian didn't need him, didn't want him but, instead, wanted, needed Justin. Her heart went out to him, and to Brian, who had come to his realization in the midst of blood and violence. To find out that you loved someone and were in danger of losing them all at once... Christ, that kid never had it easy. She patted Michael's face. "He'll be all right, baby."

Michael's response was lost in Mel and Lindsay's arrival. "Is he okay? What's going on? Where's Brian?" All of this all at once.

Deb answered the first two questions. "We don't know how he's doing. Jen just went back."

Lindsay, holding Gus tight as if she feared to lose him, asked again, "Where's Brian?"

"Sitting somewhere alone probably," Deb replied.

"Justin's mom lit into him, accused him of leaving Justin alone, of letting this happen to him," Michael explained angrily. "She doesn't know shit."

"She's upset, honey," Deb said in her defense.

"Brian fuckin' saved Justin's life. If he hadn't been there, that Hobbs kid could have killed him."

"He shouldn't be by himself," said Lindsay, yet she made no motion to go seek him out, afraid of what she would find.

Deb handed Michael her purse. "Stay here, wait for Em and Ted and Vic. I'll go find Brian."

If Lindsay and Mel thought it was strange that Michael didn't go after his best friend, they didn't say anything. 

 

Brian heard her approach and tried to stand, to escape the inevitable, but he couldn't. "I don't want any advice and I don't..." but he faltered and she slid her arms around him and held him as he cried, his face pressed into her side.

"I know, kiddo. I know." She wiped away a tear that had run down her cheek. "Come on," she said, gently putting him away from her. "Listen. I know this is tough, but Sunshine's countin' on you to be there when he wakes up, wearing that famous Brian Kinney shit-eatin' grin on your face."

"I could feel him slipping away."

"But he didn't. Because he's strong and he'd never leave you. Not in a million years." Softly, "Not now." And by that she let him know that she understood exactly how things stood between him and Justin.

He didn't dispute her claim.

"Come on back to the waiting room. Lindsay and the baby are there."

But he shook his head, unable to deal with any of them right now. "I just-- I just want to be by myself."

"He'll be fine," she promised.

"You don't know that," he said in a whisper, afraid that if he said it aloud it'd somehow influence fate.

Deb said nothing, just stroked his hair and left him.

With Deb gone, he sat alone in the corridor as he had done before Michael's arrival. And the pain in his chest spread to his belly. He bent over in the chair, arms wrapped around his waist, trying to keep the hurt contained, but he couldn't. It spread throughout his body and he gasped and stayed like that, bent over and crying, not caring who saw him because he thought that he was dying. 

 

_"Baby don't you know I love you so/ Can't you feel it when we touch/ I will never never let you go/ I love you oh so much."_

He could still see them dancing in the middle of the floor, the rest of the teenagers standing in a circle around them, shocked into silence and inaction. When he had first walked into the ballroom, he had felt as if he were entering a coliseum, surrounded by jeering Romans who wanted him thrown to the lions. And then he saw Justin and Daphne, watching him with wonder on their faces, the joy in Justin's warring with the incredulity. He had smiled and gone over to the two of them, never letting them see the fear, the apprehension that he felt.

Holding Justin in his arms as they twirled around the dance floor had been incredible. The teenager had looked so beautiful and Brian had felt proud to be there with him. Proud, and a little frightened, because there was no going back from here. How could he pretend not to care when he had broken every rule, every one, to be here with Justin?

It had been thrilling to dip Justin and then lift him in his arms and kiss him, imagining the faces around them frozen in disbelief, although he had seen a couple of the girls smiling from the sidelines. Taking Justin's hand, he had led them from the dance floor, only stopping to grab his jacket from Daphne just before leaving the hall. They had danced and laughed their way through the parking lot. _"Did you see their faces?" "Yeah, gave them a prom they won't ever forget." "Me either."_

Brian squeezed his eyes shut. _"It was the best night of my life." "Even if it was ridiculously romantic."_ Not disagreeing. Seeing them kiss, like two guys on a first date. God, for the first time in his life he had hesitated, staring into Justin's bright, blue eyes, heart pounding. How had it happened? In the time it took to exhale, everything had changed. He had leaned in and waited, seeking Justin's permission, seeking his own to take this step. In the end, he had closed his eyes and kissed Justin softly upon the lips, taking the risk. And he remembered his words to Michael, said half in jest, being a smarts as usual, _"Life's not worth living if you'll not take risks."_

Alone in a row of seats in a deserted hallway, he hoped no one else would come for him. Didn't want to see the pity in their eyes. Poor Brian, fell in love with his twinkie trick. What took him so long? Should have done it months ago and saved them all the two-hanky weeper. Fucking drama queen. He felt his chest tighten and a tingling across his shoulders. Not again. He couldn't fuckin' cry again. But he could. And he did. Cried again, trembling, angry at himself for not having a better grip on his emotions, angry that he even gave a shit about being in control. Justin...

How many times had he pushed Justin away with some feeble line about not being into boyfriends, into lovers, into dates…? _"But I want you," Justin had said, and he'd replied, "You can't have me."_ Staring into the teen's eyes while Hotlanta went down on him. Telling Justin to come back in an hour and see if he'd gotten a better offer, the night the teenager had won the King of Babylon contest. Yelling at him to pack up his shit and to get the hell out of the loft after the robbery. The examples were numberless. Yet Justin never gave up on him. Even the King of Babylon escapade had been a desperate attempt to get his attention, to slap some sense into him. And he had given the teen just enough affection to keep him interested, but not enough to fully satisfy him. Worse yet, as soon as an opportunity arose for him to escape Pittsburgh and, by extension, Justin, he had taken it. And still Justin had been there for him. Looking at apartments in New York on Brian's laptop, trying to find a way to share his life, even if it meant helping him move.

He had looked so happy, white scarf around his neck like a World War I flying ace or a knight wearing one of his lady's favors. Off to do battle and return victorious. A bright light in the midst of darkness. Now the scarf was stained with his blood. No longer pure. No longer bright. Everything gone so horribly wrong.

Brian wiped his face and took a deep breath. Now, Justin needed him. Taking the bloody scarf from around his neck, he stuffed it in his jacket pocket and stood, head above water. 

 

Ted, Emmett, and Vic had also arrived by the time he went back to the waiting room. He saw the shock on all their faces, staring at the bloody scarf hanging out of his pocket, at the blood on his lips and neck, at his expression no doubt. Looking briefly away, he sniffled and looked back again. Caught Deb's eye. "Has there been...?" but she shook her head before he even finished. Reaching for a chair back, he sat, his legs suddenly unsteady.

Lindz leaned over him. "Bri? Are you all right?"

And he paused before answering. "No. I'm not." Looked down at his hands, unable to face any of them.

At that moment the doors to the examination rooms opened and two policemen brought Chris out into the waiting area, hobbling, followed by his parents. Acting in concert, Em, Ted, and Michael blocked Brian from getting to him; he had stood so quickly, moved so fast, it was a miracle they were able to come between them.

The Hobbs kid began yelling. "I hope he dies," he said over the efforts of his parents to get him to be quiet. "I hope he fuckin' dies! Fuckin' faggot!"

But before the cops could take him away Brian said in a calm, even voice, "You'd better pray that he lives. Because if he doesn't, I'm coming for you. And it'll take more than bars, and guards, and laws to protect you. I won't wait for the state to put you down. I will fuckin' kill you myself." He broke away from the guys and returned to his seat in the silence that ensued.

A police detective, following Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs, stopped where Brian sat, as the uniformed escort shuffled Chris out of the hospital. His parents trudged behind them, despondent. "Mr. Kinney?" Brian looked up. "I need you to make a statement about what happened. Down at headquarters. Soon as possible."

Mel approached the detective. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"Be better if he could do it tonight. There might be charges"

"Charges?" exclaimed Deb.

Just as Melanie was about to argue, Brian said, "It's all right. I-- " Rubbed his face. "Just let me find out how he is, and I'll come down."

"Fair enough." The detective exited.

Lindsay sat next to Brian. "You want anything?" He shook his head. Gus reached for him and he pulled away.

"I've got blood on me," the last of his sentence but a whisper.

Handing Gus to Mel, Lindsay took a baby wipe out of her purse and tried to clean his face and neck but he wouldn't let her.

"It won't come out," he said and Lindz stood and pressed her face into Mel's shoulder. All of them looked away, unable to watch him like this.

Just then Jennifer Taylor emerged from behind the double glass doors. Trying not to crowd her they waited for her to report on Justin's condition. "He's got a slight skull fracture and there's some brain swelling..." She paused, unable to go on for a moment. Deb put her arm around her shoulders. "But the doctors said there's no need for surgery, yet. They've got him in intensive care, they're going to watch him to see if there's any more swelling. And he still hasn't regained consciousness. They won't really know the extent of his injuries until he does." Brian shifted in his seat, stood, and she finally noticed him. "You stay away from me. And you stay away from my son. He's no good to you, now. You can't fuck him! Why are you even here?"

The vehement tone of her voice pushed Brian back. He stared at her, unable to say anything. And then he turned and walked away.

Michael couldn't keep quiet. "I know you're upset, but if it weren't for Brian, Justin might have been killed."

"If it weren't for Brian, Justin would never have been in this mess in the first place."

"That isn't fair," said Em. "The night Brian met Justin, Justin was out looking for trouble."

"And he found it."

"Brian's looked after him, in his own way. And he'd never let anything happen to Justin," Emmett added. "Not if he could help it."

Michael said softly what they had all been thinking, "Brian loves him."

"He doesn't love anyone but himself. Justin's said so. You've said so."

"I was wrong," Michael admitted, his dark eyes filling with tears. He wiped at them and swallowed hard. "Because he loves Justin."

"He's still a child," countered Jennifer, unwilling to accept the fact.

"Not a child," Deb said, correcting her. "A young man."

Jen trembled and Deb held her as she wept for her baby. 

 

He deserved it, every accusation that she had flung at him. All he had ever done was fuck things up. He looked down at his hands, at the blood on them, and it seemed right that his hands should be bloody, that he could no longer hide his deeds inside a pretty package, like Dorian Gray and his portrait; now his sins were right out in the open where everyone could see them.

Unobserved, she watched him for a few moments. Saw him stare at his hands. From where she stood she could see the blood on them, Justin's blood. Blood on his neck and face, where he had crouched over Justin, shielding him from further harm. Her mind made up, she approached him. He looked up as she neared him but he couldn't quite meet her eyes. Before she could speak he said, "I know that I should have protected him and I didn't. I know that." His lips trembled. "I know that." Then in a choked voice, "But I didn't leave him. I never meant for this to happen."

"I know." She watched as a tear slowly rolled down his face, one more trail among the many that scored his skin. "Do you love him? Do you love my son?"

He sat so still that she thought he would refuse to answer, would once again fail Justin, but then he spoke. "Yes." A breath. "I do." So softly now, "I love him."

"Maybe you'd like to see him." She rose. "He'd want you there." 

 

The door closed gently behind him and he leaned against it, hoping to gather enough strength to cross the room and sit at Justin's side.

He moved a chair from beside the window and drew it up to the bed. Studied the young man beside him. He was so pale, almost as white as the bed sheets. As pale as the bandage wrapped around his head. He seemed so lifeless, Brian lifted his hand just to assure himself that he still lived. His flesh was cool but there was a pulse, faint but steady. Brian laid his hand back down upon the bed and pressed his face against it. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry." His chest heaved. "Just don't leave me. Because I don't think... I don't think I can do this anymore. Not alone." And he wept, his tears wetting Justin's skin. Wept for all of the things he had never said; for all of the things he had said in anger, in confusion, fear; wept for his cowardice, for all of his failings. When he was done, he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and laughed. The old Brian Kinney would have never been caught dead crying at someone's bedside, and he would have never used his shirt sleeve to wipe his face. Before the waterworks started again, he stood and leaned over Justin. Gently, like a breeze in April, he kissed the teenager's full lips. "Wake up. Please." But he didn't because this wasn't a fairy tale and Prince Charming's kiss didn't have any magic in the real world. Brushing Justin's mouth with his own, he turned and left the room. 

 

Mel closed the door behind her while Brian laid his jacket over the back of a bar stool. That done, he just stood in the middle of the floor, seemingly lost in his own home. "You need anything?"

He shook his head and sat down. "Thanks. For going downtown with me."

"I just hope they charge that homophobic little prick with attempted murder. Asshole!"

In his mind's eye he saw Chris Hobbs sneaking up behind Justin in the side view mirror. Replaying the event in his head, he saw where he hesitated. Maybe if he hadn't, if he had called out sooner, maybe Justin-- He lowered his head. No. No. No more guilt, no more blame, he couldn't bear anymore.

"You want me to call Michael?"

Remembering the hurt look in Michael's eyes when he had refused to cry on his shoulder, Brian said, "No. I'll be all right."

She shuffled her feet a little, still getting used to being nice to him. "Listen, you need anything..."

"Yeah, I've got your number."

Instead of leaving, she hung around the counter. "You did a good thing. You saved his life."

"I should have gone with him when he asked me. If I had gone..."

"If you had gone, maybe that little shit would have still clobbered Justin. Only, maybe he would have gotten the both of you." She moved closer.

"I don't deserve him."

She smiled. "I know." He looked up and around and laughed weakly, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "I don't deserve Lindsay either. Looks like we're both a couple of lucky bastards."

And even now, when he was scared to death of losing Justin, could he honestly say that things would be different between them? Some things, yes. There was no longer a reason to push him away, to pretend that the teen meant nothing to him, but could he truthfully say that he would be faithful to Justin, forsaking all others? That he wanted to grow old with him? He glanced at Melanie's wedding band, then at the leather band around his wrist. One failed relationship and another that was just beginning, only this time he was Cam and there was a young man in love with him. Could he do it? Be everything that Justin needed him to be? Did Justin need him to be faithful? Then, remembering his anger at Justin for tricking in the backroom, he asked himself, _Do you need him to be faithful to you?_ What did it even mean? To be faithful. And the words of the song he and Justin had danced to came back to him. _"…the music's fine like sparkling wine go and have your fun/ Laugh and sing but while we're apart don't give your heart to anyone…"_ Maybe, just maybe they could find a way.

"If he--" he said aloud and stopped abruptly, not meaning to give voice to his thoughts, not wanting to say, 'If he makes it.'

Mel understood. "Yeah," she said softly, "he will."

After she had gone, he got up and stripped; stuffed his clothes in a garbage bag, intending to burn them the first chance he got. Stood under the shower head for fifteen minutes, barely moving, just letting the water fall over him, washing away the blood and tears. Fought off attempts by his heart to relive the first time he and Justin had ever taken a shower together-- and lost. Running the soap over Justin's back and shoulders. _"My mom sometimes says she wishes I had never been born." "Probably because she's stuck with this annoying, little brat for the rest of her life."_ He laid his head against the cool tile. Remembered the time Justin had come into the shower to find him scrubbing his arm raw, after telling his old man he was gay. He turned off the water and got out, removed his robe from its peg, his hand brushing against the blue one he'd bought Justin. Feeling nauseous, he drew on the robe, left the bathroom, and laid down on the bed, not bothering to dry his hair, not caring if he got his duvet wet, and wishing Justin were there to rub his stomach and to fix him a soda water. He laid there, just breathing deeply, until the sick feeling went away. 

 

He had slept after all. Woke up around eight alarmed that no one had called him with an update on Justin. He rummaged in his drawers for something to wear, dressed, and was headed for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee when someone buzzed him. His stomach muscles tensed and he paused before answering.

"Brian, can I come up?"

"Marty?" It was his boss. He buzzed him through and waited at the door for the elevator. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" he asked, yet the older man looked distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect of being in his subordinate's home. Brian stepped out of the way and closed the door behind him.

"I was just making coffee..."

Ryder glanced around the loft. "No thanks. This won't take long."

Brian laughed as he opened the freezer and removed a bag of Hawaiian Kona. "What? Am I fired?"

"How's your friend?"

That brought Brian up cold. He paused in the middle of filling the carafe with water. "Justin?"

"The boy who was hurt," said Ryder indicating that it wasn't important, what Justin's name was, only his circumstances.

"How do you know about Justin?" he asked, pouring the water into the coffee maker, making himself remain calm.

"It was in all the papers this morning. On the news too." Ryder glanced at the window. "There are about five reporters waiting for you to put in an appearance downstairs. I saw a truck from CNN in front of your building."

Brian's hands felt like ice. "They don't waste any time." Paused. "So why are you here? I know it's not to check up on me."

Ryder wouldn't look in Brian's eyes. "I think it would be best if you took a couple weeks off. Take sick leave, you don't even have to use any vacation time."

As the coffee brewed, Brian busied himself with finding a cup and spoon, taking out the sugar. "I don't need to take any time off."

"It would be best if you did."

Brian stopped what he was doing. "You mean I don't have a choice."

"Pretty much."

"Why?" He had wanted to keep his temper but he was coming dangerously close to losing it.

Ryder explained patiently, as if to a child, "Once they find out where you work, there'll be reporters there, asking if we knew about your relationship. Poking into other matters. Our clients don't want another scandal." Referring to the Kip Thomas debacle.

"He dropped the suit," pointed out Brian.

"It was a scandal nonetheless."

"You didn't seem to care when Liberty Air went national with my campaign." He poured a cup of coffee and stirred in a couple teaspoons of sugar. Took a sip. "I've worked my ass off for the agency."

"I know."

"And you're practically hurling me out the fucking door."

"We've taken into account your work, which is why we're only asking you to take a couple weeks off."

Although he had only been indulging in histrionics with his comment about them hurling him out the door, he realized that there was a great deal of truth in the statement. "So what are you saying? That if I hadn't been an award winner, you would have fired me?"

"Brian, you're high maintenance. I've ignored the drugs, your questionable sexual habits..."

He couldn't believe it, only rolled his eyes and drank his coffee.

"We can't afford any negative publicity."

That did it. He exploded. "Justin's in a hospital bed fighting for his life cause some self-loathing, homophobic piece of shit with the hots for him tried to bash his brains in and you're talking to me about negative PR!"

"You've been in a sexual relationship with a minor."

"He's eighteen!"

"How old was he when you met him?"

Instead of answering, Brian came around the counter and sat at the dining table with his back to Ryder. "Who's taking over my accounts?"

" Darren Johnson."

He laughed bitterly. "Darren Johnson wouldn't know a good idea if you shoved it up his ass."

"He doesn't have to. All he has to do is manage the paperwork and the people, something he's good at."

Suddenly weak, he let the coffee cup rest on the table.

"Take the days off," Ryder said. Then added, "And maybe take a hard look at your life while you're at it." His message delivered, Marty left.

His coffee got cold sitting on the table in front of him, but he had lost any appetite he may have had. As much as he wanted to go look out the window at the reporters gathered below, he didn't, not wanting to give them any photo ops, at least not until he went downstairs to go to the hospital. That couldn't be avoided. His cellphone rang. He picked it up off the counter and held it for a second or two, terrified of what it might mean.

"Yeah."

"Hey." Michael. He hesitated.

"Just tell me," he said.

"He's awake."

Brian released the breath he had been holding. But it wasn't enough that he was awake. "Is he okay?"

Again Michael seemed reluctant to speak. Then, "He's asking for you."

"I'll be there in fifteen." Snapped the phone close. Went to put on his shoes. But the phone rang, not his cell, the other line. "What?" he snapped, pissed that he had been interrupted.

"Brian, it's your mother."

"Mom, you don't have to say it's you. I recognize your voice." Of all the days... And then it came to him why she was calling and he prepared himself for the worst.

"Is it true?" She was never one to beat around the bush.

Neither was he. "Yeah."

"And when were you going to tell me?"

"I promised Pop that I wouldn't."

There was a pause. "Your father knew?"

"I told him. Right before he died." Also told him about Gus but he wasn't ready to share all of his secrets today, over one phone call.

"Well, you've finally done it."

He swallowed the anger. "Done what?"

"Completely humiliated me. I can't even go outside, the neighbors all know. It's front page news."

"Fuck 'em," he growled and he thought that he would have felt angrier, but he didn't. Instead, he felt a profound sadness. "Why can't...?" he whispered, afraid for her to hear him and to answer him with something even more hurtful.

She had heard him. "Why can't what?"

"Why can't you ever be on my side?" he asked, and he felt foolish, so incredibly stupid for even asking because he knew the answer. Nothing he ever did would ever be good enough. He had fucked up the moment he had been born. The moment he had been conceived.

"I'm sorry if I'm not proud of the fact that you had sex with a boy twelve years younger than you."

Silence.

"I have to go." She hung up without saying goodbye.

Laying the phone down gently, he sat on the bed and cradled his head. 

 

Justin opened his eyes as he came into the room. Forcing himself to walk calmly across the floor, he sat in the chair next to the bed, took Justin's hand in his. "How do you feel?"

"Like someone hit me in the head with a baseball bat," he replied, speaking just above a whisper and smiling weakly.

Brian didn't smile.

"It's supposed to be a joke."

"It's not funny."

The teen sobered. "I'm okay."

"You're in the ICU," Brian pointed out.

"Could have been the morgue." Brian pulled away and walked from the bed. "Brian," Justin called softly, no strength to speak any louder, and the man returned and sat down once more. "What's wrong?"

Brian looked into his face, so young, so fragile-looking, swathed as his head was in bandages. He could see him lying on the ground in the parking garage, blood pooling beneath him, and he lowered his face to the covers and shook. He felt Justin's hand on his head, running his fingers through his hair, and he lifted his head and kissed his fingers. "I thought..."

"I know."

Shaking his head. "No. You don't," he said in a hushed voice.

But Justin insisted. "You think I would have stuck around this long, if I didn't know?" he asked. Then added, "I got a 1500 on my SATs, remember? I'm not stupid."

Brian did laugh then. And, afterwards, quieted down and declared in a gentle voice, "I love you."

"You scared?" Justin asked.

"I'm fuckin' terrified." Their eyes locked and Brian watched as a smile spread across the teenager's face. Not the brightest one ever, by far, but the most beautiful one he had ever seen. "What are we gonna do?" he asked, aware that in any other situation, he would be the one giving advice, being the eldest, but he was lost, totally fucking lost.

"I'm gonna get well, and graduate, and we're gonna go to the Bahamas, and party all night, and fuck all morning, and lie on the beach all day driving the guys crazy," Justin replied. "And after that, I don't know. But whatever it is, I bet no one sees it coming. And no one's gonna know what to do with us."

Brian leaned over him and kissed him tenderly. "When you're better," he began, "first thing, before graduation or the Bahamas or anything else, we're gonna go to my place, and lock the door, and cut off all the phones, and we're gonna make love all night long..." and Justin giggled and groaned, his head beginning to ache again. Then his eyes widened as he realized what the man had said. Brian smiled. Surprises already. They were starting out together, then, and who cared if they weren't quite sure where they were going or what they were going to do when they got there? Fuck the rules. They'd make 'em up as they went along, make their own way. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that neither one of them was alone anymore.

And Justin was right... the world was in for it. 

 

*"Love is Here," by Des'ree and Ashely Ingram, Sony Music Publishing UK (BMI)/Ashley Ingram, 1994.

"Save the Last Dance for Me," by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman, 1960.


	2. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin consummate their love. Set a few weeks after "Disperse the Clouds."

Justin had been home from the hospital for a couple of weeks now and for the past five days had been pestering Brian to make good on his bedside promise to spend the night together; but each evening Brian arrived at Deb's, had dinner there with him-- or they went out-- and each night he kissed the teen goodbye and returned home alone, leaving Justin by himself, each bound for his solitary bed. Justin would watch him pull away, making himself stand still on the stoop until he had driven from sight, before going inside the house.

On the last such night, Deb greeted him from the kitchen where she and Vic were playing Gin Rummy. "Hey, Sunshine, have a good time?" Then to Vic, "Like I have to ask."

"Yeah," he replied absent-mindedly, hand on the railing as if he were heading up to bed, but he didn't, just stood there lost in thought.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He went on up saying, "Goodnight."

Deb turned to Vic. "You buy that?"

"Not in the slightest," he replied. "Looks like there's trouble in Paradise."

"They haven't even gotten to Paradise yet." Shook her head. "Fuckin' Brian... If he's hurt that kid—"

But Vic disagreed. "I don't think he's done anything. I think that's the problem." He stood. "Maybe I should handle this one. Being a fellow invalid and all."

Justin hard a soft rap and, expecting Deb, said, "Come on." He was surprised to see Vic enter instead.

"Got a minute?"

"Sure. I've got twenty until the next big event in my life," he said bitterly, "my ten o'clock meds." Then, realizing who he was talking to, "Sorry."

"Frustrating, huh?"

"I feel fine," explained Justin, "but everyone treats me like I'm about to break. I'm not."

"I know. But they're scared. He's scared," said Vic, going to the heart of the matter. "I don't think he'd ever been scared in his life until that moment."

"But I'm fine."

Vic sat on the bed next to Justin. "But he's not." His words clearly disturbed the teen, he got up and wandered around the room. "So many things happened that night, Justin. The whole world changed for him and he's still trying to find his way through it."

"But we can do it together," Justin protested.

"You are. You are together." Vic waited until Justin had calmed down and taken a seat at his computer desk before continuing. "And there's more to being together than being intimate." He held up a hand to forestall any complaints. "I know, I know, that's the fun part. But there are other parts that are just as important. You have to be patient with him."

Justin flipped through some papers. "I've been patient."

"Then keep on being patient. And understanding. And loving. And all of those things that are important to him, that he needs you to be right now. He's not going anywhere. You won't lose him." He smiled. "It's just sex."

But Justin didn't return his smile. "It's more than that."

"You want to make love to your lover," Vic said, still smiling just a little wistfully.

"It's all I think about."

"Youth," snorted Vic. "I'd be exhausted if all I ever did was think about sex all day."

"And night," added Justin.

"And night." Vic stood. "Beating off a little while longer won't kill you." Justin looked properly scandalized, so much so that the man laughed. Gripped his shoulder, and left.

Once Vic was gone, Justin thought about what he had said. Maybe he was right, maybe Brian needed time to deal with their new relationship without the pressures of sex. He could wait. Of course, he didn't have any choice. He just hoped that Brian worked through whatever it was he needed to work through—and soon. 

 

Drawing his robe about him, he sat cross-legged on the sofa and flicked on the television, turned to CNN and promptly tuned out news of the world. His cell phone lay on the cushion next to him. He had picked it up at least three times and each time laid it back down, the call aborted. The sound of the news anchor penetrated his thoughts and he stabbed the power button returning her voice and image to oblivion. He let his head rest on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Opened them and glanced over at the telephone. What would it hurt if he called him? Just to say goodnight. There was precedent. It wouldn't alarm Justin too much. Reaching for the phone, he paused as someone tapped on the door. Mikey.

Michael was taken aback by his robe. "You sick?"

He gave a little shake of his head. "Early night."

"Were you in bed?" he asked coming in and closing the door.

Brian walked back around the end of the sofa and sat down. "Nope. Just sitting here."

Michael joined him. "Doing what?"

"Nothing." Glanced at the cell phone. "Thinking."

"About Justin?"

He didn't answer, didn't have to.

"You two okay?"

"Yeah." He got up and grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Want one?"

"I had way too many at Woody's," he said, but he took one any way when Brian handed it to him. "We missed you guys."

"He wasn't up to the noise tonight." Brian reclaimed his seat. "So what'd you want?"

Trying not to take offence at the tone of voice and the implications of the question, Michael replied, "I wanted to see my best friend. Is that allowed?"

Brian set his beer on the table in front of them, having only taken a sip. "You talk to the Doc lately?"

"Couple days ago. He's still pretty wrapped up in Hank and his new practice." Michael's dark eyes seemed even darker as he said, "I don't think he misses me at all."

"He misses you." Pause. "I'd miss you if you were all the way cross country."

"No, you wouldn't." He stood and went to the refrigerator, rummaged around for something to eat. "You've got Justin now."

Brian joined him, carrying their beer bottles. "Justin's not my best friend. You are." He opened the cabinet and removed a bag of microwave popcorn. "Here."

They sat on the floor eating from a bowl between them. Carrie-Anne Moss was kicking some cop's ass on the TV screen.

"So what's wrong?"

He popped a few kernels in his mouth and chewed. "I don't know. I wish I did." A muscle tightened in his jaw. "I feel..." He looked down at his hands. Glanced at the screen and saw Trinity barely escape being crushed by a truck inside a telephone booth. "Like that."

Michael didn't understand. "What?"

He pointed to the screen. "Like I just barely escaped with my life."

"That's natural after what happened..."

"Except that there's no other side." Michael stared at him, waiting for him to explain. "There's no other place. It's like I never left that parking garage." Pressed his lips tightly together, blinked rapidly. "I keep seeing Justin lying on the ground..."

Michael reached out and lightly stroked his neck like he had in the hospital. "He's okay. He's safe. Because of you," he whispered, knowing that at these times Brian was as skittish as a horse. "You saved him."

"Then why do I feel this way?" he asked, his hazel eyes troubled, cloudy.

"Maybe you need to go somewhere, just the two of you, get away from all the reminders."

Brian shook his head. "He's got school." Then laughed bitterly. "I'm in love with an eighteen-year-old twink."

"It could be worse." Brian looked at him incredulously. "He could be an eighteen-year-old girl."

Brian burst out laughing, then said sincerely, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For being my best friend, even when I don't deserve it."

"I'll always be there for you. No matter what."

Brian remembered Michael saying that at the side of the Turnpike and he had kissed him, wanting him to stay his and not become the Doc's, doing anything he could to keep Mikey with him. Now, he felt guilty because, once again, he was the reason Michael was alone. "It's not too late. For you to go to David."

But Michael disagreed. "I think we need some time apart. I need some time to think about what I need. What's best for me."

"I'm sorry, Mikey."

"Why?"

"I shouldn't have called you. I should have waited."

"For what?" asked Michael. "For me to be stuck somewhere over Ohio? I would have never forgiven you."

"But you missed your chance."

"Maybe. Or maybe things'll still work out. You never know."

Brian picked up his beer, held it absent-mindedly as he spoke. "You remember when we were kids? All the shit we went through? I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of Pittsburgh, to get away from my mom and dad and fuckin' Claire. I thought if I could only get away from them, maybe I'd have a chance, maybe I'd become something better. But I didn't. I was, like, twenty times worse than any of them because I knew better. A total fucking asshole... because I could be... and I didn't give a shit. I didn't owe the world a goddamn thing because all the world ever gave me was a kick in the ass." He put the beer back down, untouched. "But now, with Justin... I've got a chance to become someone different. A person I can be proud of... and I don't want to fuck it up."

Michael embraced him. "You won't." When they parted, he grabbed his jacket. "I gotta go."

They kissed at the door like they always did and Michael said goodnight. Afterwards, Brian went to bed but he didn't sleep, he couldn't sleep. Despite Michael's reassurances, he wasn't certain at all that he wouldn't do something wrong. 

 

"You're quieter than usual," Lindsay said, cutting her sandwich in two and giving half to Brian. They sat at her dining room table, Brian holding Gus in his lap. He balanced the baby against one arm while picking at the sandwich and neither confirmed nor denied her statement. "What's wrong?" He shook his head a little. Gus looked at him curiously. "See? Even Gus knows there's a problem. What is it? Justin?" When he didn't respond, she said, "Of course, it is." Took a bite of her food and chewed. Brian continued to pick at his. When she had swallowed, she said, "I thought we would always be able to talk." His eyes got shinier and he looked away. "Brian...?" She reached over and took hold of his hand. But he didn't say anything. "Tell me. Please."

He took a deep breath, then lifted Gus up and rearranged him in a more comfortable position. "I didn't sleep a wink last night. Thinking about Justin."

"He's good for you."

"But am I good for him?" he asked, picking up his soda.

"You saved his life."

He placed it back down, hard. "Everyone keeps saying that like it's an answer. I saved his life and now we can just walk off into the fuckin' sunset together?"

"I didn't mean that."

"Then what did you mean?" Frustration made him angry.

"That you obviously care about Justin."

He made himself calm down. "I love Justin." It was the first time he'd said that to her. "But it's not enough."

"Maybe it is."

I know better—" he began.

"You haven't even tried yet. You two have been together what? Three weeks? You're in love, why not enjoy it? Have fun." She smiled. Imagine giving advice to Brian about how to enjoy himself. "Live a little. You have a chance to start all over again."

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, rubbing his temple.

"And you think any of us do? We're all scared to death. Figuring out how to live as part of something instead of alone."

"I don't want a repeat of Cam."

"Justin loves you."

"He's eighteen and he's going to college in the fall. Christ, Lindz, you remember what that was like." The succession of guys who had paraded through his room and in and out of his bed would have staggered the mind of another person.

"Are you scared he'll leave you?"

"Yes! That he'll find someone younger, easier than me."

"God knows there are easier..." she said smirking.

"You wanna hand me the razor or cut my wrists yourself?"

Lindsay fixed him with a steely gaze. "What do you want? A money back guarantee?"

"I want to know that if I do this, if I put myself out there for him, I won't get trampled." His brow creased, it pained him to admit his fears out loud. "And... and I wanna make sure that I'm good for him, that I don't hurt him, cause he deserves better than that. He deserves the best."

"I thought Brian Kinney was the best." He looked down at Gus and kissed his forehead, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. "Look at you. You have a son. Did you ever think you'd have a kid? And you're a good father. You'll be a good lover, a good partner too. Just give it time."

"Why do I feel like I don't have any time?" 

 

Deb looked up to see Brian enter the diner and take a seat at the counter. Signaling to the other waitress that she had it, she sauntered over. "I thought you and Sunshine had a date tonight?"

He didn't answer right away, then said, "He didn't feel like it."

"Oh." She took out her pad and pencil. "So what'll it be, kiddo?"

"How is he? Really?" he asked.

Putting her pad and pencil away, she leaned on the counter. "Vic says he's frustrated. Because you won't..." She motioned vaguely with her hand, "You know."

"Yeah." He rubbed his forehead.

"Why?"

At first he thought about telling her it wasn't any of her business but then he remembered that he was on her turf and that he had come here of his own free will. "Because I'm scared out of my fucking mind."

Coming around the counter, she took his arm and pulled him towards a booth. Yelled, "I'm taking five!" to no one in particular. Once they were seated, she said, "I saw the bruise. Where he had hit you. That day I came home and found you and Michael drunk as two old winos. You moved your head some way and your hair parted and I saw the bruise on your forehead and, I swear, I wanted to march over there and kick the shit out of him. But I knew your mom wouldn't do a goddamn thing about it and that after I left he'd just take it out on you." Brian looked down at his hands, the truth of her words stinging but not as badly as they would have once upon a time. "But I knew what he was like and that's why I never minded all the times you stayed over at our house, cause, hell, you didn't eat much, not as much as Michael anyway, and I could sleep the nights you were with him. The last thing I wanted was to wake up one morning and find out that he'd really hurt you. Or worse. And not just for Michael's sake. You had a lot of mouth, but you had a good heart too. And you looked out for Michael. I just wish someone could have looked out for you."

"I survived," he said, a bitter taste in his mouth.

She ruffled his hair and he moved his head, not really hating her touching him but unwilling to drop the pretense. "That bruise healed and so did all the others. At least on the outside. Only, honey, now's your chance to heal on the inside." She smiled softly. "I know you're scared. Cause it's hard. Hard to change. I know. I've watched you. You've worked hard. But you don't have to do it alone anymore." She shook his head. "God knows how he knew, but he did. He knew that you were worth fighting for. So you let him help you. You hold onto him and you let him help you heal. Same as you did for him when he was hurt." He looked up at her and she could still see the doubt in his eyes. "And for Christ's sake," she added, "take him home and fuck him before he drives Vic and me crazy."

He laughed then, abruptly, and stood. Leaned over and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips.

Watching him leave, she waved her hand in front of her face. What in the hell was it about him that affected even old, straight women? She laughed remembering the guys teasing him about his Jeep, calling it his Fuckmobile. That was him all right: Fuckman with the power of super sex appeal. "Fuckman," she said to herself cackling softly. "I like that." And she hoped she'd remember it the next time she saw Michael and the guys. 

 

He flipped open his cellphone. Brian was on the other end of the line.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you nothing."

"Get ready. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I thought we said—"

"And I don't want to hear any shit about not feeling up to it, or not being in the mood to go out, or anything."

A little taken aback, Justin grumbled, "Fine. Can I ask where we're going?" And he could see Brian's face as he answered, smug and mischievous.

"No. You may not."

Click.

"God—" He closed his phone and tossed it on the bed. Better find something to wear. Who knew what Brian had in mind for them?

By the time Brian pulled up, exactly twenty minutes later, he was a little pissed-- and kind of intrigued—and glad he had changed even though he'd only put on his blue sweater and a pair of jeans. Brian, of course, looked fabulous: semi-sheer black shirt, black pinstriped slacks. "Where are we going?" Justin asked getting into the jeep.

"Someplace special."

They were still some six blocks away from Brian's street but Justin knew that's where they were headed. He said nothing, faintly worried by Brian's silence. Since answering Justin's question about their destination, he hadn't said a word. When they disembarked in front of his building, Brian took Justin's hand and they crossed the street together, smiling, both remembering the night Brian had said to Justin, "I don't hold your hand either when we cross the street, but I don't hear you complaining about that." They took the elevator, still holding hands and only parted when Brian unlocked the door.

He pulled it open and stood aside to let Justin go in first. He did and stopped in the doorway, rooted to the spot by surprise.

The soft glow of about four dozen candles and votives cast the loft in an amber light. They were arranged inside the bedroom, on the shelf that ran around the outside of it, on the table in the livingroom, along the kitchen counter, in the bathroom, and on the dining table where a cluster of slender tapers nested in white, gauzy material illuminated two place settings and a bouquet of Osiana roses. Music played softly on the stereo.

Everything looked too bright all of a sudden and then blurry. Justin wiped at his eyes.

"Allergies?" asked Brian.

"Yeah," he replied softly.   
"Are you going all the way in or are we gonna stand in the doorway all night?"

Justin pulled on Brian's sweater, leading him into the loft. Once inside, with the door locked behind them, they drifted into one another's arms and kissed softly. Drew apart. "Did you cook?"

Brian snorted, a very unromantic sound out of place in such romantic surroundings. "Yeah, right. If I had cooked, we'd be having soy shakes and Raisin Bran."

"I wouldn't care," said Justin.

They made their way over to the dining table. Brian, ever the gentleman, pulled out Justin's chair for him.

Justin blushed. "Stop it."

Taking a bottle from the refrigerator, Brian showed Justin the label. Sparkling grape juice. He pulled out the cork with a pop and a flourish and poured the juice into two long-stemmed wine glasses. Sat next to Justin instead of at the opposite end. Raised his goblet. "To us."

Justin felt like he had suddenly been transported to another dimension: dizzy, and excited, and a little scared all at once. He raised his glass as well. "To us." They touched glasses and sipped their chilled grape juice. He could hardly look into Brian's eyes, he was so overwhelmed. And Brian never looked more beautiful to Justin than he did right then, a gentle smile playing about his lips.

"Hungry?" asked Brian and the teen shook his head. "You wanna dance?" he asked and Justin beamed, remembering how wonderful it had felt to dance with Brian at the prom. Even with all that had occurred afterwards, he never regretted their moment on the dance floor. Never.

Brian led Justin to a clear space. They moved into each other's arms with ease. Justin loved the feel of Brian's palm in the small of his back. Slowly they began to sway, not moving very much, just letting the music caress them. After a while they each let go of the other's hand, just wrapped their arms about one another, wanting to be closer. Justin lay his head against Brian's chest, could almost feel and hear his heart beating. He closed his eyes, comforted by the strength in Brian's arms. Nothing or no one could ever hurt him again. He was safe here, where he belonged, where he wanted to be more than anyplace else in the world: his home now, here in Brian's embrace.

His arms full of creamy skin, golden hair, solid flesh, Brian marveled at his young lover. So strong, so brave to chance a relationship with him, to entrust his life to him. When common sense and everyone around him had told him it would never happen, he had believed that it would. Despite evidence to the contrary, he had remained faithful to Brian and to the idea that one day the man would admit that he wanted him, that he needed and loved him. Tightening his hold on the teen, Brian whispered, "I love you," and Justin didn't say a word, just lifted his face to be kissed.

Back at the table, Brian served the appetizer: lightly grilled triangles of grilled polenta with baby asparagus spears and roasted red peppers in a simple olive oil, cracked pepper, and Parmigiano-Reggiano sauce. Justin finished his portion in no time and ate half of Brian's. "That was delicious. Who cooked?"

"This guy I know." Justin raised an eyebrow. "I promised to do a free ad for his restaurant in exchange for dinner.

"Expensive dinner," commented Justin, imagining how much Brian's firm probably charged for their services.

"But worth it." He stood and cleared away their plates.

While he was busy in the kitchen, Justin took in the beautiful surroundings again. Ran his fingers over the silky petals of the peach-colored roses. "You did this by yourself?"

Instead of taking all the credit, Brian admitted that Cynthia helped a little. "She picked out the flowers and the music." He grimaced as he set down their dinner plates. "You realize she is never going to let me live this down?"

Justin smiled. "You'll live."

The main course was King Crab salad with citrus fruit, and delicate ravioli filled with herbs and cheese and served with a cream sauce. As they ate they laughed about the times they had had, both good and bad, and Justin confessed to Brian, "That time you came home and found me wearing your shirt, I thought you were gonna knock me out."

"I didn't realize I had yelled so loud until I saw your face. God, your mom totally pissed me off. And there wasn't a fuckin' thing I could say or do to her, so I came home and took it out on you."

"It's okay."

"No. It wasn't." He paused in the middle of spearing a chunk of crab meat. "A lot of the things I did..." Another pause. "I guess I did because I was scared."

"Is it really that scary? Being in love?"

"Weren't you? The first time you realized that you loved me, that maybe you wouldn't get what you wanted, or maybe you would, wasn't it a little scary?"

"Maybe a little." He watched as a tinge of sadness colored Brian's features and he decided that nothing would spoil their night. So he said, "The worse was when I forgot to set the alarm. I just knew you were gonna tear my head off. I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life as I was to see Michael walk through that door."

"Now that, you deserved."

"Hey!"

"Do you know how much trouble and time it took to replace all that stuff?"

"But it was just stuff."

"Yeah, my stuff."

"You're too materialistic. Mel's right, you are a total label queen."

"Fuck you."

"I thought you said you loved me," teased Justin.

"I do." From playful to serious in a heartbeat, Brian took hold of Justin's hand and kissed his palm. "I love you."

Whatever Justin was about to say he forgot. "Promise me you'll tell me that every day for the rest of my life."

Brian hesitated but a moment. "I'll try." 

The main course finished, they decided to save dessert for later. Tearing Brian away from the dishwasher, Justin tugged on his arm. "Dance with me again."

So they slow-danced for two or three songs, they didn't know, didn't pay any attention to the music, just let their bodies go. Finally, Brian laughed.

"What?"

"We look like those kids at your prom."

Justin laughed too. "God, they couldn't dance for shit."

Allowing Justin to maneuver them onto the sofa, Brian closed his eyes as his lover drew his head down for a serious kiss.

When they parted, Justin ran his thumb over Brian's lower lip. "I love your mouth."

Brian kissed his thumb. "What else?"

"Your eyes."

Brian lowered his lids and, ever the marketer, asked, "Why?"

"Because they're beautiful." And when he saw that his answer wasn't good enough, he added, "Because you don't always say what you're feeling but I can look into your eyes and tell if you're sad, or angry, or worried." He smiled. "And when you're happy or you're laughing, they light up."

"Are they shining now?"

"Like the sun."

He found the teen's baritone voice pleasing. Soothing. "What else?"

Justin's lips parted in mock exasperation. "More?"

"All you love about me are my lips and my eyes?"

"And your hands." Justin laced his fingers with Brian's. "You have the strongest hands." They shifted positions so that Brian lay on his back and Justin stretched out half on top of him. "And arms. I love the way you can see every muscle in your shoulders. I love the way your muscles flex when you move. I love the way you move. The way you walk around barefoot all the time. And—"

But he didn't get to finished. As he had when Brian had listed all the things he loved about Justin, the man kissed his teenage lover, stopping the flow of words momentarily.

Justin's heart was racing. To be able to say all the things that he'd been dying to tell Brian for so long was like being released from prison. He was floating in mid-air, a little dizzy but so incredibly happy he thought he would never stop smiling.

Who would have ever thought he'd be satisfied just to lie on the sofa and kiss? And not even heavy-duty kissing but playful, teasing kissing that actually aroused him more than an all-out assault. Only, he wasn't quite ready to take things any further. He liked talking to Justin; even if they were only saying the silly kinds of things all lovers said to one another, it was helping to bind them as a couple.

"Do you think one day we'll go to Paris together?" Justin asked during a break in the kissing.

"I don't know. Do you want to go to Paris? With me?"

"And Rome, and Florence, and London, and Lisbon, and Barcelona..."

Brian laughed, then gave Justin a peck on the cheek. "Tell you what. We go to the Bahamas first and if we both survive with no major injuries, I'll see what we can do about a Grand European tour next year."

Justin sat up and stared at Brian in disbelief. "You mean it?"

"Why not? Get your parents to chip in on the airfare and we could do it. I get four weeks vacation. We could spend a month in Europe, traveling from hotel to hotel—"

"And going to the Louvre, and the Prado, and the Bilbao Guggenheim and the Guggenheim in Venice, the Vatican and the British Museum—and the food!"

"Maybe I'll pay for the airline ticket if your parents pay for the meals," Brian suggested, earning him a particularly hard nudge from the excited teen.

Then Justin calmed down and asked again, "You really mean it?"

"It'd be an adventure." Justin laid his head upon Brian's shoulder, so overwhelmed that he couldn't speak. Brian held him tight and ruffled his hair. "Promise me something," he said softly.

And Justin answered, "Anything."

"Promise me you won't change."

Looking in his eyes, Justin asked, "You don't want me to grow up just a little more?"

"I have enough trouble keeping up with you now," Brian admitted, a little perturbed at what he perceived as his failings.

"Okay," agreed Justin. "Because I love you, I swear I'll never change. I'll always be young and cute—"

"And modest," Brian interjected.

"And incredibly smart," he added. Then he smiled. "And in love with you."

Brian closed his eyes so that Justin wouldn't see the pain in them. God, he wished he could believe that. But now was not the time for doubts, so he opened his eyes and offered his brightest, his most confident smile. "Of course, you will. Cause you'll never find anyone better."

"Make love to me," whispered Justin.

"I have been," Brian told him. "You just haven't been paying attention." But he too was beginning to desire a more physical connected so he didn't discourage Justin from reaching up under his shirt and stroking his nipples as they kissed.

Justin breathed against his mouth, "I've missed you." He worked Brian's shirt free of his body and draped it over the back of the sofa. Spread his fingers over his lover's chest, but he didn't go any further; instead, he studied Brian's face. "You look different."

"How?"

"I don't know." Then he thought for a moment. "It's like you see me. All of me," he said, seemingly unaware that his original statement and his explanation were completely different. How Brian looked hadn't changed, it was how he looked at the world that had. 

Somehow they ended up kneeling on the sofa, Brian pressed against Justin's back, the teen's sweater up under his armpits, his jeans and underwear down around his hips, and Brian's hands stroking his chest and belly as he kissed Justin's neck and jaw. Turning in his arms, Justin latched onto Brian's lips and they kissed until the room started to spin.

"Oh God," Brian whispered, and he broke away, finished removing Justin's clothes, and stripped off the rest of his own.

Justin climbed upon his lap and eased Brian's head back, exposing his throat. Hungrily, he planted kiss after kiss along the smooth column of his neck until he reached his chin and their lips joined again.

Wrapping his arms around Justin's waist, Brian inched to the edge of the sofa and stood, the teen's legs encircling his waist. He carried him to the bedroom and laid him gently down upon the bed. Justin held out his hand, drew Brian to him.

"Do you love me?"

"I do."

"Say it."

"I love you."

Brian knelt upon the bed, his buttocks resting on his heels and supported himself on his outstretched hands as Justin climbed upon him, spearing himself on his lover's cock. Arms around Brian's neck, Justin held onto him while his body adjusted. Brian sat up, the muscles in his thighs bulging as he supported Justin's weight. One arm around his waist, the other around his ribcage, Brian maintained a firm hold on Justin as the teen slowly began to work against him. Feet planted on the mattress to either side of Brian, Justin began moving his hips back and forth just a little, to loosen up his hole. Then, slowly, he raised his buttocks, Brian's cock sliding out of him inch by inch, and, at the end of the trek, exhaled and thrust his hips forward, taking in all of Brian at once.

Bodies in sync, having established a smooth, easy rhythm, they sought their pleasure in the feel of tight, warm flesh around hard; in swollen lips that refused to stop kissing, to stop seeking new places to touch; in blue eyes gazing into hazel ones; in round, high, pumping buttocks; hard stomachs; sweat-slicked backs; abrupt cries; long, drawn-out sighs; and moans that sent shivers up their spines.

"Mmm," murmured Justin into Brian's neck, and Brian knew exactly what he meant, what he wanted. He eased him onto his back, raised the teen's legs, and got on his hands and knees above him, still joined, never having parted even for a second. "Ahh," Justin gasped as Brian began to thrust harder. He slid his hands over Brian's hips and pressed his fingers into his cheeks to encourage him. Brian's cock was so hard, felt so good going in and coming out and... He closed his eyes and began to 'sing' as Brian called it, a flow of mostly nonsensical syllables slipping from between his parted lips, that grew less and less intelligible the more excited he became.

"Sing for me, baby," Brian whispered and he did, clenching his muscles as the first spasm gripped him. Giving a shout, Justin came, creamy cum spilling onto his belly. "Jesus," Brian groaned into his neck. "You're so..." He gave a cry. "Tight." And he closed his eyes, light-headed from his own climax which grabbed him by the neck and shook him. Shivering, he lay in Justin's arms, feeling the teen's body trembling beneath him. 

They woke a little after midnight and made love again, Justin sitting on Brian's cock and riding him until Brian's vision got hazy and he thought he would pass out from an excess of pleasure.

Although he couldn't see Justin's face, as the teen had his back to him, he could read his emotions in the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head, in the arch of his back and the way he reached back for Brian's hand, squeezing it as he bounced on his lover's dick. His own need overpowering him, Justin drew Brian's hand around to his groin. With no more instruction than that, Brian took hold of the teen's cock and began jacking him off. Justin grunted and ground his hips against Brian's pelvis, his climax imminent. Suddenly he clenched his muscles, causing Brian to cry out, and filled Brian's palm with his spunk. Continuing to pull on his dick, Brian jerked out the rest of his load, using the teen's cum to lubricate his strokes. Shuddering, Justin slumped over, Brian's cock still stiff inside him. After a few deep breaths, he moved to his hands and knees.

Thrusting into him was like fucking a silk tunnel, Brian decided, lost in the motion of his hips. Christ, he loved the way Justin could come and still be excited by the notion of Brian being inside of him. Most guys hated to be fucked after coming. Not Justin. He continued to feel pleasure even after he came. Maybe it was because he had never learned otherwise, or maybe it was because he was eighteen. Whatever the reason, Brian was grateful. Not that it took him long to come after Justin had. Even now he felt himself slipping over the edge. Kissing Justin's shoulders, he descended into bright oblivion. 

Around three a.m., careful not to wake Brian, Justin left the warmth of their bed and tiptoed into the kitchen. Brian had said something about dessert earlier. Easing open the refrigerator, he spotted it: tiramisu. One of his favorites. Although, if the truth be told, he was a dessert freak. It really didn't matter what it was. Tiramisu, chocolate cake, gingerbread cookies, apple pie, vanilla ice cream...

Cutting a huge slice of tiramisu, he sat at the dining table and ate by candlelight. Smiled to himself, his toes curling, happy beyond belief. He had gone from being merely glad to be alive after Chris' attack to being ecstatic. Whipped cream in the corner of his mouth, he licked it clean. Maybe he'd wake Brian up after all. He glanced around through the open doorway at the man sleeping so soundly. Changed his mind. Let him sleep. He deserved it.

After he finished, he rinsed the plate off and placed it in the dishwasher. Then went around and blew out all the candles before brushing his teeth and returning to bed. Brian stirred as he got back beneath the covers but didn't wake. Not completely. Just enough to reach over and draw Justin to him. Content in his lover's arms, the teen quickly fell asleep. 

 

Justin woke to the smell of fresh coffee. Opened his eyes and saw Brian heading towards the bed with a tray. He removed the two cups and sat them safely on one of the bedside tables. Noticed that Brian had brought in the bouquet of roses from the dining table. Coffee cups gone, Brian set the tray on the bed between them. Justin sat cross-legged among the covers. Smiled. "Is this what it's gonna be like all the time?"

Brian smirked. "Me? Bringing you breakfast in bed? I think you should wake up because you must be dreaming." He motioned for Justin to hand him his coffee. Sipped it. "I'm surprised you didn't have nightmares from all the cake you ate last night—this morning." Shook his head. "You must have a fucking iron stomach."

Beaming, Justin replied, "Just one of the perks of being young."

Brian said, "And that's the thanks I get for slaving over a hot stove all morning?" Without saying a word, Justin lifted the bowl of cereal and the toasted bagel. "Screw. You." He took another draught of coffee. "Just for that, you're fixing lunch." Justin mouthed, 'I love you,' and Brian couldn't help but laugh and say affectionately, "Asshole."

After breakfast, Justin went to shower saying he smelled like cum. Brian growled against his throat, "My favorite fragrance," but let him go. Finished his second cup of coffee. In the quiet following Justin's departure he had time to think about their first night together as lovers. Why had he waited so long? Justin was right, there was no reason to be afraid. He grinned remembering Justin asking him, "Do you really mean it?" when he suggested going to Europe next year. Could imagine them boating on the canals of Venice in a gondola. Justin's smile brighter than sunshine on sparkling water.

And then his eyes alit on the bouquet of Osiana roses. Although they were still beautiful, some of them had begun to lose their petals, dotting the top of the night stand with peach foliage. He picked up one of them and held it between his fingers. So delicate. So beautiful. Already leaving. Softly, he whispered to himself, "No." _Not now. Don't think about it now. Just—_ But he couldn't stop the thoughts from coming. _Face it, that's how love is too. Beautiful now but for how long? How long before this ends? Before he leaves you? Because you know you don't deserve him. You know that._ "I know," he said softly and the tears began to roll down his face. He sat and cried silently until he heard Justin stirring in the bathroom. Then, hastily, he wiped his face and tried to compose himself before the teen returned. But even though he had done a decent job of cleaning away the traces of tears, he couldn't erase the effects, and Justin noticed.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, knowing that if he spoke he'd only begin to cry again.

"Brian?" Justin knelt at his feet since he wouldn't look up. "It's okay. Because I love you. And that means you never have to be sad again. Or alone. Or afraid." He cupped Brian's face. "I'm here. And I'm never going anywhere, not even if you tell me to." Sobbing, Brian drew him up into his arms and held him so tight he thought his ribs would be bruised, but he didn't care. He didn't complain, just let the older man hold him for as long as he needed.

Justin wiped the last of the tears from Brian's face and kissed him. With his lips still pressed against his lover's, he asked, as if of a child to remind him of lessons learned, "Now... How long are we gonna be together?"

And Brian replied without hesitation, "Forever."

Closing his eyes, Justin smiled. 

 

 

_They were gone now, but their presence remained in the loft. In the bathrobe that draped over the edge of the bed. The coffee cup forgotten in the kitchen sink. A half-finished drawing on top of the table. In these, and a dozen other traces that revealed their existence. Traces that spoke of moments together. Moments that, when combined, told the story of their lives. Once two separate paths, now merged into one. Winding through the trees, the destination unseen… the ending as yet undiscovered._

 

Special "Thanks" to Colleen for the online conversations that helped me work out some of the psychology of the piece.


	3. Happy Worker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian faces discrimination at work because of his relationship with Justin.

Tossing the latest bill from his tailor onto his desk, Brian turned over another envelope and swore when he saw the return address. Tore open the invitation-- because that's what it was-- and confirmed his worst suspicions.

Justin looked up from his sketchpad. "What?"

He groaned. "Ryder's Semi-Annual Department Cocktail Party at his house. I was foolish enough to hope that he'd skip it this spring after that fucking farce in the fall."

"How bad could it be?" Justin asked.

"Remember that fundraiser slash wake for Senator Baxter at Mikey's?"

"Yeah?"

"Worse. Corpse Central."

Shuddering, Justin returned to his sketch. "Then don't go," he said offhandedly.

Brian dropped the invitation on his desk and picked up his beer. Chugged it as he stomped past Justin. "I have to go. I'm senior management." He climbed the steps to his bedroom and plopped down on the comforter. Set his beer on the table and sighed melodramatically.

That was his cue to offer sympathy and comfort. Justin smiled and ignored him.

Brian inched closer to the foot of the bed and sighed even louder.

Justin laid down his pencil. "What?!" he said, pretending to be annoyed.

"You're not taking very good care of me," complained Brian.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm bored," Brian pouted.

"Get a hobby," was the teen's suggestion.

"I did." Brian grinned and Justin jumped up from the table, rushed into the bedroom, and tackled him. Bowled him over and climbed on top of him.

"I am not a hobby."

Brian laughed and tried to fend off Justin's attempts to tickle him. "You're right. You're a full-time job."

"Fuck you."

" Workman's Compensation." He rolled them over and came up on top. Kissed the teenager playfully.

"Can I come?"

Just about to say, 'No,' out of force of habit, Brian paused. They were lovers now. Partners. Why not? "I need to go through your wardrobe first."

Confused, Justin asked, "Why?"

"To make sure you have something presentable to wear. That won't embarrass the both of us."

Justin pulled Brian's head down and kissed him. "And I promise to be on my best behavior."

"You'd better be, or I'll have to spank you," warned Brian.

"Maybe," Justin suggested, "you'd better spank me now. Just in case."

Brian lay on his side and unzipped the teenager's jeans. "I like this job. It's got excellent fringe benefits." 

 

The buzzer on his phone sounded twice. Ryder Alert from Cynthia. Well, he had nothing to hide, just going over some reports from the Frederich account. As usual, his door was ajar and Ryder tapped lightly before entering, not waiting for his permission. He closed his reports. "What's up?"

Ryder looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I suppose you got the invitation to the party." Statement of fact. True. So Brian nodded. "And I suppose you'll be coming alone, as usual."

"Actually no," he said, correcting Ryder's assumption. "I'm bringing Justin."

At that Marty's face paled visibly. "You're not serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Agitated now, Ryder turned and studied one of the prints on the office wall. "If you were stupid, I might actually buy the innocent routine, but you're not, and you know damned well why you can't bring him."

"I can't bring him?" Brian asked, standing up.

Marty turned. "An eighteen-year-old high school student has no place at an office cocktail party."

Brian didn't back down. "The invitation said 'spouses and significant others.' He's mine," Brian explained carefully as if Ryder were the stupid one.

"Let it go, Brian," warned Ryder, starting to leave.

"Fuck no I won't."

Ryder faced him again. "Brian..."

"You're telling me that I can't bring my lover to a party for employees and their partners? Because he's young?"

"He's practically a child."

"He's a man." Brian thought for a moment. "So if he were my age, that would be all right?"

Hesitating, Ryder replied, "It would be more appropriate."

The word choice wasn't lost on Brian. "Stupid me. I thought this was about age, but it's not. It's about you not being comfortable with me being gay." Angrily, he lashed out at his boss, "That's totally fucked! I have never hidden who I am or what I am, and I'm not about to start."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to be discreet."

"You're asking me to lie about my life!" Brian bellowed. He shook his head. "I can't fuckin' believe this."

"It's one party that you hate coming to anyway," Ryder said, attempting to mollify his subordinate.

Brian glared at him. "Then maybe I won't come at all," he said and he stormed out of his office, leaving his stunned boss behind. 

 

"So what did you think?" asked Michael. "That they'd welcome you and your twinkie boyfriend with open arms?" He shook his head in disbelief.

Emmett put down his drink. "Why not? I bet a lot of those old guys have young, trophy wives."

"I think the operative word is 'wives' and not 'boyfriends,' " said Ted, taking a sip from his beer. "Michael's right, you didn't really expect them to go for it, did you?"

Brian's nostrils flared. "I didn't expect anyone to give a fuck. They all know I'm gay."

"And if they didn't, I'm sure they do now after the infamous Kip Thomas episode," Michael reminded them.

"Could you fucking give that a rest?" growled Brian. He grabbed his drink then set it back down, jostling some of the contents.

"Besides," explained Emmett, "this is different. It's not about snacking in your office, it's about love."

"Oh God," moaned Ted, readying himself for one of Em's famous recitations on the nature of love.

"Brian and Justin love each other--"

"We've heard," interjected Michael and Brian looked around at him but said nothing.

"This isn't about love," said Ted, hoping to circumvent the rest of the lecture. "It's about a boring, office cocktail party that he hates going to anyway. I, for one, will be glad not to have to hear about how horrible it was and how everyone was dressed like me."

"You're not going?" asked Em.

Brian knocked back his drink. "We're going all right. And they can all just go to hell."

"This is about your job," Michael reminded him.

"No," Brian said, disagreeing, "this is about my life. And how I choose to live it. It's bad enough they made me take two weeks off when Justin got hurt-- and not because they gave a fuck about me or him-- they didn't want any bad publicity. I rolled over on that one because I wanted to be with him, but I'm not backing down on this. We're going to that party, and if anybody has a problem with seeing us there, they can just shut their fuckin' eyes."

Ted exchanged glances with Michael. "What about Justin? Have you asked him how he feels about being a martyr to the cause?" And Michael nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Justin," explained Brian in a quiet voice, "was nearly killed because he refused to hide. He's the bravest person I know." Before Michael could say anything, Brian continued, "And I don't think he'll have a problem with a hostile cocktail party."

"So you go to this party and you rub their faces in it and then they find some excuse to fire your ass. Then what? Is it really worth your career?" asked Michael. "Some things aren't worth fighting for."

Brian laughed bitterly. "Say I don't go to this party. So what? It's just a fuckin' party. Only, what's next? Hmm? I, ah, I can't put a picture on my desk of me and Justin because some people might object. Or, I can't talk about him, because it makes people uncomfortable. Oops, can't use the executive washroom because you're gay and people are afraid **they** might catch something. And how about you wear this pink triangle on your lapel so everyone knows **you're the faggot**? So we can watch you, make sure you're not corrupting our youth or undermining our perfect society." A pall descended over their group. "When do you say, 'Enough?' When does it stop? When does it end? When they come to take you to the fucking trains? It's too late then. So I'll tell you when it stops: it stops now, as of this moment, and no further." He looked directly into Michael's eyes. "And if they come for me, at least I'll know that I didn't lie down and wait for 'em." He stood, shook his head, and left.

Emmett finished his drink and got up as well. "Later," he said softly.

With the other two gone, Michael and Ted found it hard to look at one another. Finally, Michael said, "I know what they think, that I'm a coward for living the way I do..."

"You're not a coward," Ted reassured him.

"He's gonna get fired. First that sexual harassment suit and now this. They're just waiting for an excuse to get rid of him." Michael's eyes were even darker than usual, black with worry.

Ted held out his hands. "There's nothing you can do. He's made up his mind."

"There's one person who can do something," Michael reminded him.

Ted agreed. "Then I suggest you pay his better half a visit." 

 

Justin went through his suits trying to find one that was appropriate for a cocktail party, that Brian would approve. The ad exec had told him that the party wasn't black tie and tails but that people dressed well for it. Always marketing themselves. Never know who you might end up talking to, who you might have to impress. Make 'em want you, even if they don't want to. Looking through his stuff, Justin didn't think he had anything like that. Shit.

"Hey, Boy Wonder." Michael poked his head through the door. "Can I come in?"

"If you're looking for Brian, he'll be here in about an hour."

Michael came in and sat on the bed. "Actually, I came to talk to you."

Taking out one possible candidate, Justin asked Michael, "What do you think?"

"Is it for the cocktail party?"

"Yeah."

Instead of answering Justin's question, Michael asked one of his own. "Did he tell you what Ryder said to him at work yesterday?"

Justin hung the suit on the back of the closet door. "No. Is the party cancelled?"

"Ryder doesn't want him to bring you." He waited for Justin's reaction. The teenager looked confused at first and then understanding flitted across his features. Even Michael was saddened to see how hurt he looked.

"Because I'm a kid," Justin said just above a whisper.

"No," replied Michael, "because you're a guy." At that Justin's features hardened and Michael could tell that Brian had been right, Justin wouldn't back down now. Before Justin could respond, Michael pushed forward. "Look, I know it's a shitty deal, but he works in corporate America. Which is not exactly known for its tolerant attitudes." His words were having no effect. "They could make it really difficult for him. They could even get rid of him, use anything as an excuse."

Justin shook his head. "He wouldn't let them. Melanie would fight for him."

"Is that what you want? For him to have to go to court to keep his job? And then how do you think they'd treat him? If he sued them and they were forced to keep him on?"

"He's the best account exec they have. They'd be crazy to get rid of him. Who he fucks has nothing to do with his job," said Justin.

"But," explained Michael, "it has everything to do with his image. They know he's gay. Fine. But he's never really pushed it at work. Sure, he's done a few questionable things, but he's never gone on a crusade to advance the cause. Until now." He paused to give his next words added weight. "Until you."

Justin pulled another suit from his closet and hung it over the first one. Spoke with his back to Michael so that the man couldn't see his expression, one of remorse and guilt. "What do you think I can do?"

Standing, Michael went to Justin and waited until the teenager faced him. "Tell him you've changed your mind, that you don't want to go. That you wouldn't feel comfortable being there. Tell him anything you have to, just don't go to that party, Justin. Not if you love him." He paused. "You have to look after him now. I can't do it anymore," he confessed. "So take care of him. Do the right thing." With that he left.

He sat at his computer desk and stared at the blank screen, praying that the answer to his problems would appear before him. But the monitor remained mute. 

 

Brian came up behind him as he stood at the sink and embraced him. Kissed his neck. "Where are the suits? Let's get this over with and go shopping."

But Justin didn't turn. He looked down into the soapy water. "I've changed my mind. I don't really want to go to the party." Although he hadn't sounded very convincing to himself, he hoped that Brian had bought his performance.

He hadn't. "Mikey's been talking to you."

"No--"

"Don't lie to me. Mikey's been here, hasn't he?"

Justin hesitated, then fessed up. "Yeah." He turned and glanced at Brian's face. "How did you know?"

"Because it didn't sound like you. It sounded like him." He paused. "But if you really don't want to go..."

"I want to go."

Brian placed his hands on Justin's shoulders. "You know, maybe there's a reason why I'm not with him and it has nothing to do with not doing friends. Maybe-- maybe it's because he's not what I need. What I want."

Shyly, Justin asked, "And I am?"

Brian kissed him softly. "Stop fishing."

The teen laughed. "Maybe I like hearing you say you love me."

"I'll record it on a CD and you can play it whenever you want."

Justin pushed him away. "Asshole."

Taking a seat at the table, Brian watched his lover finish his task. "You two must think I'm stupid. To ever buy that lame-ass excuse." Mocking Justin, " 'I've changed my mind. I don't really want to go to the party.' " He laughed. "What is it? Is it the pretty face? Fools you, right, into thinking that I'm a complete idiot?"

"No," replied Justin, looking over his shoulder, "I would say it's the idiotic behavior which leads me to believe you're an idiot." He watched as Brian tried to control his temper and failed. Yelped, and ran up the stairs with the man down behind him. 

 

He lifted the back of the jacket to check the fit of the pants and pronounced it, "Perfect." Nodded to his tailor, who helped Justin take off the jacket and hung it on a hanger. Waited for the trousers as well. They had purchased an Armani ensemble from Pittsburgh's most exclusive menswear shop but they had to buy the jacket a bit larger because Justin thought the sleeves were too short in his size and nothing Brian or the salesman could say would convince him otherwise. So the jacket had to be refit for his slimmer build across the shoulders and through the chest. The pants, of course, had to be a little larger because of Justin's ample buttocks. Only, in the larger size, the waist had to be taken in a few inches. No matter the trouble it took, when he put on the outfit, a faintly patterned tan jacket with a pair of blue-grey slacks and a blue-grey and tan striped jersey, the teen looked fabulous.

Brian had opted for a black and grey outfit: a supple black sharkskin sports coat over a dark grey, almost black shirt that zipped up the front and a pair of dark grey, almost black trousers. As usual, eyes had turned when he emerged from the dressing room wearing the ensemble. He had his tailor take in the pants a little since even in his size they were still a bit large on him, he was so slender.

Suit bags slung over their arms, they departed the tailor's shop and headed for home. Seeing Justin in his clothes-- and out of them-- had turned Brian on tremendously. Good thing the party wasn't until later this evening, plenty of time to play. 

 

Ryder's wife opened the door and smiled when she saw Brian, but the smile faded a bit when she saw who accompanied him. To her credit, the smile didn't completely leave her face even for a moment. After all, she was a successful business woman in her own right. Well respected. No need to be rude. "Brian, it's good to see you."

"Liz." He came inside, followed by Justin, and kissed her on the cheek.

She indicated Justin with a motion of her hand. "And this is?"

"Justin," the teenager said.

She held out her hand. "Liz Ryder-Kelly." After she and Justin had shaken hands, she led them into the living room where the rest of the guests were gathered. All heads turned at their entrance. Instinctively, Brian sought out Ryder, found him near the window talking with Bob-- or was it Brad?-- one of them anyway. Marty didn't look pleased at all to see Justin. Flashing one of his devil-may-care grins, Brian pretended not to notice the intense scrutiny.

"Well, Brian," said their hostess, "you know how this works. Bar. Buffet." Leaned in close. "Buffoons." Smiled. "Enjoy."

Justin chuckled and moved closer to Brian. "She's funny."

Glancing around to see if Cynthia was here yet, Brian added, "She's a shark. Bank VP. I hear she keeps Ryder's balls locked in a vault."

Cynthia came up behind them unnoticed. "A time-released vault."

Nonchalantly, Brian introduced his secretary to his lover. "Cynthia, Justin; Justin, Cynthia."

"Thanks for helping him with the flowers and music," Justin said to Brian's eternal embarrassment.

Grinning, Cynthia made a mental note to meet Justin for lunch one day and exchange stories. "I was glad to hear that you were okay. After the attack and all."

"I had a good doctor."

"I've heard he likes to play doctor," remarked Cynthia. She looked them over. "Nice outfits. Armani?"

Brian held out his hands. "What else?"

"You look nice too," Justin said when he realized that Brian wasn't going to return the compliment. And she did look nice. Not as pretty as Mel and Lindz when they got dressed up to go out, but pretty.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "I like him. He's observant. And polite. So how'd he end up with you?"

Before he could be insulted by either of them, he announced, "I'm getting a drink." He raised an eyebrow and waited for Justin to submit his order.

"Could you get me a Coke? I'm still taking pain medication," he explained to her.

Brian moved away as they began to discuss Justin's condition. Saw Bob and Brad and their wives standing near the bar. He made a beeline for them. Smiled.

"Hi, Brian," said Brad/Bob.

"Guys."

"You remember our wives."

"Barb and Brittany."

"Of course. Barb and Brittany." Which was which? What the fuck did it matter? They were all interchangeable.

One of them, the dirty blonde wife, motioned towards Justin and Cynthia. "And that's?"

"Justin." His first impulse was to leave it at that, but he couldn't. "He's my lover. He's eighteen and still in high school. He graduates in a few weeks and he's going to the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts in the fall. Yes, he's the one who was on the news, who got attacked at his prom. He likes "The Power Puff Girls" and "Tomb Raider" and he's fabulous in bed." He smiled. "Spread the word would you, so I don't have to say it more than once? Thanks." He moved past them to the bar and submitted his order. When he passed by them they were still standing in shock.

Two hours later he was ready to kill. Ryder had perfunctorily greeted them, making it very obvious that he was displeased with Brian. Following his example, most of the other senior level execs had done the same thing. Worse, his little joke on Bob and Brad backfired as they did go around and tell everyone exactly what he had said so that he had to endure sideways glances and whispered comments all evening. Luckily, Justin didn't notice. He and Cynthia and some of the other secretaries and office assistants and interns were getting along famously. Probably because they were closer to his age. The guy running the music finally put on something decent and Justin and Cynthia and a few other couples took to the floor. Brian watched with pride as Justin continued to charm his secretary and her friends from work. Saw one of the interns lean over and tell Justin something complimentary about his dancing. They should have seen him at Babylon the night of the King of Babylon contest. Watching Justin wrap his legs around that pole had given him a hard-on. He smiled remembering how they had spent the afternoon today. Maybe it was time to get the fuck out of here and go home and finish what they'd started. Pushing off from the wall, he heard two guys talking. They probably thought he couldn't hear them because of the music, but he was used to Babylon and had pretty sharp hearing.

"They're like fuckin' gay fashion bunnies. Flopsy and Mopsy Cottontail. Probably fucking like bunnies, too." The guys laughed.

Brian pretended not to have heard. He didn't want to make a scene. That was the last thing Ryder would tolerate, him fighting in his home, and it might come to that, if he called out the guy. So he kept walking as if he hadn't heard anything and tapped Justin on the shoulder.

"You wanna dance?" Justin asked and Brian shook his head.

"I wanna go home."

But Justin turned on the smile he used whenever he wanted to have his way. "Just one?"

Cynthia released Justin's hand and stepped aside. The music changed to something slow and romantic and they moved into one another's arms. The couples around them glanced in surprise and some alarm as the two men danced in place. Brian caught a glimpse of Ryder at some point and thought his boss' head was going to explode. Then Liz came up to her husband and suggested that they dance and they joined the small group of couples. Soon Ryder was smiling at something she said and Brian made a mental note to send her a token of his appreciation. When the song ended, the couples parted and the dancing seemed to be over, at least for now. Brian left Justin for a moment, made his way over to the host and hostess.

Kissed Liz on the cheek. "Thanks for having us."

"You're welcome. Good to see you again," she replied and gave Ryder the eye.

"I'll see you at work on Monday," said Marty.

So Ryder let him know that he wasn't off the hook, there would come a time of reckoning. "Monday." Brian left them and collected Justin. He was definitely not looking forward to Monday. Fortunately, he'd have all day Sunday to spend with Justin and Gus and to forget about his upcoming confrontation. 

 

With images of Justin and Gus giggling on a merry-go-round filling his head, Brian smiled as he walked into his office. Cynthia was already in there, seated in front of his desk with his schedule book opened. As he put down his briefcase and dropped into his chair, he said, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For talking to him."

Cynthia grinned. "I like him. He's sweet. I couldn't imagine what he must have been like, to have snagged the Super Stud. But I can see why you fell for him. He's beautiful."

"Yeah, well, let's not turn this into a meeting of the Justin Taylor Appreciation Society." He lit a cigarette, his first in about a week. "What do I have?" She went over his appointments. "Nothing from Ryder?"

"Not a peep."

"Well, that doesn't mean shit."

She closed his appointment book. "So when are you two going to the Bahamas?"

Brian blinked. "What? Did he tell you his entire fucking life story at that party?"

Cynthia rose and left the office, promising to buzz him if she saw Ryder coming.

The day passed without incident and no word from Ryder. By lunch he figured maybe Liz had been able to get Ryder to see reason. On his way to the restroom, he stopped by Cynthia's desk. "Send some flowers to Liz Ryder-Kelly. At work."

After he left the restroom, he got a taste for a cup of coffee. Instead of going back to his office and sending Cynthia for it, he went to the break room himself. Was just about to walk through the doorway when he heard a group of guys talking. About Justin.

"Did you see the ass on that kid? Kinney probably fucks him every night." Connors.

"If you wanna wear Armani at that age, you gotta put out." Sounded like Milton.

"Well, why else do you think Brian wants him?" Drake. "For his stellar conversational skills?" They laughed.

"I don't think it's required. He's too busy using his mouth for other things."

At that point Brian walked into the room. The men, who had had their backs to the door, turned and Drake and Milton had the decency to look ashamed. Brian went right up to them and stared the unrepentant one in the eyes. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to talk about people? Especially with your backs to an open door?"

Drake stuttered, "Sorry."

But Connors, the hard case, said, "For what? For saying what everybody else is thinking? Isn't that your thing, Kinney? Saying what no one else will?"

Brian leaned in and over, being a few inches taller than Connors. "How about you shut the fuck up about Justin?"

"Why? We were just saying how well-endowed he is. Fuck, if my wife had an ass like his, I'd be banging her every night instead of three times a week."

"Shut the fuck up." Brian felt the vein in his forehead throb. This guy was pushing it and that was dangerous.

"And those lips... I bet they feel real good sliding down your cock."

Brian grabbed the front of Connors' jacket and pushed him back against the counter. "What part of 'Shut the fuck up' don't you understand?"

Drake moved around to the side. "Brian, let him go. He was just being an asshole."

Taking a deep breath, Brian released him and was about to leave when Connors spoke again.

"I thought that was his boy toy's job," he said and he shoved Brian hard.

In an instant they were swinging. Milton and Drake managed to pull them apart after the first couple of blows but it was too late to avoid damage. Connors had gotten popped in the eye and he'd be sporting a shiner come this evening. Brian had gotten hit in the mouth with the class ring on Connors right hand and his lip bled a little. But worse than that, they had managed to attract considerable attention. When Brian looked up at the crowd that had gathered, he saw Ryder staring back at him. Shit. 

 

Brian stood in the middle of Ryder's office trying hard not to feel like a kid who'd been called to the principal's office. Only, Ryder was sitting behind his desk and he was standing there with blood on his lip and his shirttail out.

"What the fuck was going on?"

"He was talking about Justin, I told him to shut the fuck up, and he wouldn't."

"This isn't high school. You should have walked away."

Brian couldn't believe it. "What if he'd been talking about Liz? Saying those things about your wife? Would you have walked away?"

"Justin's not your wife."

"He's my partner." Ryder looked away. "I respect Justin and I'm not going to stand by while someone else disrespects him."

"You're senior management for Christ's sake. You can't go around having fist fights in the break room."

"I didn't start it."

"If you flaunt yourself, what do you expect?"

"Flaunt myself?" Brian looked at his boss in disbelief. "We showed up to your party, and had a few drinks, and danced together once. It's not like I fucked him in the middle of your living room."

Visibly disturbed by Brian's words, Ryder muttered, "You shouldn't have brought him. I told you not to."

"And I told you I'm not hiding who I am." He waited for Ryder's response but there was none. "I want an apology."

"What?"

"I want Connors to apologize for what he said."

Ryder began shuffling some papers on his desk. "I think you should count yourself lucky that he's not filing charges and leave it at that."

But Brian wasn't about to do any such thing. "Let him." He reiterated his request, "I want him to apologize. All of them. I'm not gonna put up with that shit everyday."

"Then leave your... boyfriend at home where he belongs."

Brian glanced at Ryder's desk, at the photograph of he and Liz on the front porch of their vacation house. He gestured at it. "That's a nice picture of you and your wife," he said quietly.

Ryder lifted his head but couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Brian..."

But Brian left without staying to hear what else he might say. 

 

Brian lay on the sofa with his head in Justin's lap. The teen stroked his hair and occasionally leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead. On the screen Holly Hunter and Nicholas Cage had just brought home Junior and were showing him around the domicile. Although Brian's eyes were open and he was looking in the general direction of the television, Justin could tell that he hadn't seen much of what had happened in the film so far. He was tense, his shoulders and neck stiff, and every so often he would take a deep breath and shift, wanting to get up and pace around but wanting to stay with Justin, wanting Justin's attentions to be enough. Finally he just got up and walked into the bedroom, leaving Justin to the movie.

Turning off Raising Arizona, Justin followed him. Found him sitting in the middle of the bed. "You want anything?"

Brian shook his head. Then he held out his hand and Justin went to him.

They made love slowly, just lying together naked for the longest time, hands and lips leisurely making their way over warm skin. Patiently, calmly, and tirelessly, they cleared Brian's mind of the day's unrest. Justin sank down upon Brian and watched as his lover's eyelids fluttered and a smile spread across Brian's face, taking joy in their lovemaking, all problems swept aside.

Later, they finished watching the movie, eating ice cream and laughing riotously at HI's shenanigans even though they had both seen the film a dozen times or more.

The next morning Brian drove Justin to school and returned home, having decided to take a sick day. He called and left a message for Cynthia, then turned off the ringer on his telephone and shut off his cell. Ran on the treadmill for thirty minutes to work off the ice cream from last night. Watched CNN for the fashion news and, afterwards, turned to Cartoon Network hoping to catch "The Power Puff Girls." Jesus, Justin had him hooked on that show. But it wasn't on so he cut off the television and flipped through a couple of magazines, earmarking half a dozen items to keep in mind the next time he went shopping.

Around twelve he fixed himself some lunch-- just a turkey sandwich-- picked at it, and ended up putting it in the fridge, half-eaten. Called Lindsay and left a message on her machine. She was probably out at the park with Gus. Finally, bored out of his mind, he opened his briefcase and took out the copy for the new Frederich Foundry ads. How the fuck did you make steelworks exciting? Well, one way not to do it was to use this copy. He red penciled the ad until it looked like it was bleeding to death. Fuckin' Bob/Brad. What a couple of useless...

Before he knew it, three o'clock had come and it was time to go pick Justin up from school and take him to Deb's to grab some clean clothes. They weren't to the point where he wanted the teen to move in with him but he found himself needing Justin nearby more and more. Probably was best not to analyze that too closely. Besides, he hadn't forgotten their first disastrous attempt to share living quarters. Granted, they hadn't been an official couple then, but he didn't think they'd fare any better this time around. Least not yet. And especially given the fact that Justin was about to enter college. He didn't think he could put up with the erratic hours, the all-nighters, the study groups, the last minute projects... Just imagining it made him groan. 

 

Michael was at Deb's when they got there. "Hey, where were you? I called your office and Cynthia said you called in sick and then I called you at home and kept getting the machine. And your cell was turned off."

"Yeah, I know," he said straddling a chair. Justin went up to get his stuff.

"Hey, Sunshine," Deb called as he ran up the stairs.

"Hey!" he shouted down.

She turned to Brian. "Tell him to call his mom, she's worried."

"Yeah."

"So why weren't you at work?" Michael asked.

"Because I didn't feel like going in."

Deb frowned, noticing his mouth. "What happened to your lip?"

Hesitating, knowing it was going to open a proverbial can of worms, he said as casually as possible, "I got into a fight."

"At Ryder's party?" Michael was about to go into "I told you so" mode.

"At work."

Michael's mouth fell open. So did Deb's. "You got into a fight at work?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"For what?" Michael waited for his response.

"Some guys were talking about Justin, and I told them to shut up, and one of them wouldn't, and we got into it."

"Are you fucking crazy!" yelled Michael. "You could lose your job."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's not worth having."

Deb glanced towards the stairs. "He know?"

"I told him."

Michael glared at him. "So I guess you feel like a real man now."

Brian shook his head sadly. "No, I feel like all this time I've been a fucking idiot. Thinking that it didn't matter who I fucked as long as I did my job. But that wasn't it at all. It didn't matter as long as I kept it out of the office, as long as that part of my life stayed in the clubs and in my bedroom."

"That's where it belongs," Michael insisted.

"All I wanted was to go to a party with Justin and show him off a little." He smiled, remembering how beautiful he had looked. "We shouldn't have to scurry around in the dark like fucking cockroaches."

Sliding her arm around his shoulders, Deb kissed him on the top of his head. "You did good, kiddo."

"Ma!"

"Well, he did. And he's right. If they can't accept him the way he is, Justin included, then fuck 'em."

Michael stood. "That's great. And what if they fire you?"

"There are other companies."

"They can make it hard for you. Blacklist you so you can't find anything in Pittsburgh. Then what?"

"Then I'll go someplace else."

"What about Justin?" And Brian's look told Michael that he hadn't thought about it in those terms. "You leave, what's he gonna do? He's starting college in August. Is he supposed to just pick up and go with you?"

Justin came around the corner and they all looked elsewhere. "Ready?" 

 

At the loft, over dinner, Brian tried to put Michael's words out of his head but he couldn't. Finally, just as he was about to go crazy fighting to keep it all in, Justin said softly, "I would go with you."

Brian raised his head and looked at Justin across the table. "You heard."

"Yeah." Justin laid a hand upon Brian's arm. "And I would go. Wherever you went."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Brian said lowering his eyes.

"You wouldn't have to." Justin paused, to let Brian know just how serious he was. "I'm never leaving you."

"It's your dream, to go to the Institute. You can't just throw that away. Not for me."

"Being with you, that's my dream. I can go to school someplace else. There are other schools," he said, echoing Brian's words to Michael. He caught and held his lover's eyes. "But there's only one you. One us. I can't throw that away."

Taking a deep breath, Brian said, "Maybe it won't come to that."

Justin tightened his grip on Brian. "If it does, promise me that you won't try to leave me behind."

"Justin--"

"Promise me," he said again, not taking any excuses.

And Brian took hold of his hand. "I don't think I could, even if I wanted to." He released him. "You're like a fuckin' bear trap." Justin smiled and opened and closed his teeth causing Brian to laugh. He picked up his fork. "Eat your food so we can go to bed." 

 

Justin arched his back and groaned as Brian continued to suck on his cock. He was so hard, so... "Oh," he moaned and cupped the back of Brian's neck. Began to pump his hips. Brian raised his head and released him. Used two fingers to keep his cock upright and, eyes locked with Justin's, licked the shaft from tip to base. Precum bubbled and dripped down the head and Brian used it to lubricate his fingers while he massaged Justin's dick. The teen writhed about as Brian kneaded the head and area just below the rim.

He kissed the base of Justin's dick. Licked his balls. "Mmm," he whispered into his sac, sending shivers all the way up Justin's spine by way of his asshole which had gone into spasms. "My little Cream Puff Boy," he said, nuzzling his testicles. "Is that what you are? My Cream Puff Boy?"

"Yes," gasped Justin.

Brian's lips closed around his sac, then slowly let his balls slide out of his mouth, wet and shiny. "All that delicious cream..." And he increased pressure on Justin's cock, quickened his strokes. The muscles in Justin's belly contracted and his buttocks were clenched. Mouth open, he whimpered as Brian tugged on the head and continued to run his lips over his scrotum. His tongue spoke to Justin's skin in hieroglyphics and the teen's dick responded by blossoming. The head expanded and the first fountain of cum spurted from his hole. "That's it," crooned Brian and he jerked on his cock again while the cum continued to erupt. 

 

Crawling from bed sometime around one a.m., Justin found Brian sitting in the chaise lounge reading a trade magazine. He climbed on top of him and laid his head against Brian's chest. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Come back to bed?"

"In a minute."

"You did the right thing."

"I know."

Justin got up and touched his shoulder. Brian held his hand briefly before letting go. True to his word, he did come to bed soon. So it had only been restlessness. In a little while he had fallen asleep and Justin was able to return to his rest as well. 

 

Fully expecting Ryder to be waiting for him when he got into work, Brian was pleasantly surprised to see only Cynthia. "So what's the word?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, he was pissed."

"But?"

"You know you missed the meeting for the Welch account."

He hadn't remembered. "Fuck." Then, "I was sick."

"Oh, yeah, everybody believed that," she said rolling her eyes. "You could have at least tried to sound like you were ill."

"So? What did Ryder say?"

"He hinted that you might not be with the firm much longer and then he tried to bring Darren Johnson in on it and Darren--"

"Fell face first into that pile of shit known as his incredible lack of creativity and talent."

"Exactly."

"And what did old man Welch say?"

"He told Ryder to let him know when you got back in the office. And then he said that he thought a lot of your clients would be interested in knowing that you were thinking about leaving the company... and he walked out. I thought Ryder was going to have a seizure."

Brian's grin spread from ear to ear. "Remind me to call old man Welch and apologize personally." He thought about it. "Better yet, call him and see if he's free for lunch this week. It's the least I can do for standing him up."

She stood. "Done." Paused in the doorway. "Here he comes."

Brian began to unpack his briefcase and pretended not to see his boss come through the door.

"Brian."

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Where were you yesterday?"

"Didn't Cynthia tell you? I was sick."

Ryder stared at him. "You missed a very important meeting."

"I forgot. You do that when you're ill." He sat down. "I'll reschedule with Welch. Apologize personally." Emphasis on apologize. He watched as Ryder squirmed, not wanting to say whatever it was he had come in to say.

"You'll get your apology from Connors and the other two," he said and Brian almost laughed out loud because Ryder looked like he had passed a bowling ball. Still, he had to make sure his boss understood just where he stood.

"A formal, written apology."

"A formal, written apology," he agreed. Before he left Ryder added, "I'm sorry too. You were right. That kind of behavior is inexcusable."

Staring after his boss in amazement, Brian shook his head. As Cynthia returned with his appointment book, he said, "Maybe I should be sick more often." He inhaled. God, it was good being back at work. "Do I have time to stop by my tailor's today?" 

 

"So, what happened?" Michael asked as they slid into the booth next to Em.

"Written apologies from all three of those assholes," Brian replied. "Plus, Ryder apologized and said that he was wrong."

Emmett beamed. "This calls for a celebration." Signaled the waitress who brought over two more glasses of water.

"Only..." Brian began.

Instantly alarmed, Justin asked, "Only what?" Brian hadn't said anything about there being something else in the jeep.

"HR has decided, in light of recent events, that our department needs to have a fucking sensitivity training session." He huffed. "Wasting my time with goddamn role playing games."

Justin laughed. "Poor Brian. It's hard being a crusader."

Ted quipped, "Especially without a cape."

Raising his glass, Emmett proposed a toast. "To the Dynamic Duo. Fighting corporate homophobia, one cocktail party at a time."

The guys all raised their glasses-- even Brian, and he hated that kind of shit. 

 

They had just walked through the door when the phone rang. Justin sauntered to the bedroom, dragging his jersey over his head in preparation for their private victory celebration. The teen had made him stop at this leather shop on Liberty Avenue and wait in the car while he went inside. He had no idea what Justin had in store for him and was, consequently, incredibly turned on. Grumbling, Brian answered the telephone and hoped whoever it was kept it brief. "Yeah."

"Hey."

It was Mikey. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say I'm glad things turned out all right." He paused. "And that I didn't mean to butt in, I was just worried about you."

Brian caught a glimpse of Justin's hips as he bent over to take off his pants. "I know," he said, much gentler than he would have except that having Justin made it easier to be kind.

"See you later."

"Yeah. Later." He hung up the telephone. Stood by the desk for a moment thinking about how things had changed, how in the past he had gone to Michael for help and now, now he had Justin; and it made him a little sad to think that he and Mikey were moving apart. He picked up the phone and started to dial Michael's number when Justin appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, naked, and holding a black box in the palm of his hand.

"I'd like to explain this new benefits package to you."

He smiled. Put the phone back down. Michael could wait until tomorrow.


	4. Hold Fast (to What You Have Already and I Will Give You the Morning Sun)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cam returns to claim what he believes is his; and Justin struggles with being 18 and in love for the first time. 
> 
> (This one's for Kym who said she couldn't wait until Cam met Justin).   
> [Title taken from a painting by Morris Graves.]

"I can't," replied Brian.

Justin pouted and ran his fingers up his lover's arm; he stood behind him at his desk. Brian was seated and rummaging through some papers. "Why not?"

Removing Justin's hand from his neck, Brian picked up a folder containing the notes for his presentation and opened it. "Big meeting tomorrow. Last minute preparations. You know, work?" Explanation given, Brian expected Justin to go, so he turned his attention back to his documents. But Justin didn't leave. Instead he grabbed his backpack and hunkered down on the sofa. Started taking out his books. Brian looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Studying. You know, homework?"

Brian pursed his lips. "No. You need to go home."

"But--"

"No buts." He gestured at the door. "Go."

"Why?"

Patiently, as if talking to an imbecile, Brian said, "I have work to do and I can't be distracted. **You** are a distraction. Hence, **you** need to go home."

He opened his Calculus book. "I'll be quiet."

"Justin..."

"Please," he begged. "I promise, I won't say a word. You won't even know I'm here."

Brian smirked. "I'll know. Now--"

"I promise."

"Justin... If your being here is like your not being here, then why be here?" He frowned. "What the fuck did I just say?" He shook his head. "No. You cannot stay."

Eyes narrowed, Justin began shoving books into his backpack. "This is so unfair. When you want to play, we play, and when you're not in the mood, I get put away like some kind of fucking toy."

Brian closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. Dropped his pen and went over to the couch. "You know, there's no point in fighting about this. I won't change my mind. I get paid a pretty decent salary to do my job and, sometimes, it comes first. And it has nothing to do with my being in the mood and everything to do with the fact that I have to pay for this loft." He kissed the top of Justin's head. "Now, go back to Deb's and do your homework." For the second time in ten minutes, he cleared his mind of the issue and returned to his papers.

Close to spontaneously combusting, Justin grabbed his stuff and stormed out of the loft without even saying goodbye.

Brian jumped when the door slammed. Thought, He'll get over it, and made a mental note to make it up to him tomorrow. 

 

They shared a bag of potato chips and pretended to study-- at least they had their books open. But studying the was the last thing on Justin's mind.

"He told me to go home, Daph."

"Well, didn't he say he had work to do?" she asked, trying to be the reasonable one.

"I just wanted to be with him. I wouldn't have bothered him."

Finding that hard to believe, Daphne wisely offered another explanation. "Maybe he just needed to be alone."

Justin, refusing to be comforted, intoned, "I guess the honeymoon's over."

She pushed him. "No. You haven't gone yet."

That made him smile. Thinking about their upcoming trip. "A whole week in the Bahamas. I can't wait." His smile faded. "That's if he still wants to be seen with me."

"Justin, he loves you." Her eyes grew a little sad. "You should have seen him when you got hurt. I thought he would never stop crying. And he wouldn't let anyone near you until the paramedics got there." Putting away all sad thoughts, she rattled the empty bag, balled it up, and tossed it.

"I know that you're right. It's just that-- I love him so much and-- I always feel like I'm doing or saying the wrong thing." He looked down at his hands and sniffled. "I don't want to lose him."

"You won't. He just wanted to be by himself for one night." She laughed. "It's not the end of the world." She nudged him. "So stop being such a drama princess. You've got nothing to worry about." 

 

Brian sat next to Emmett at the bar.

"Thought you had work to do," said Michael.

"Finished early. I got bored sitting at home." He caught the bartender's attention and ordered a drink.

"So why didn't you signal the Boy Wonder?"

"I needed a break."

Emmett raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"It's exhausting." Brian leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bar. "He can do it all night, seven days a week. He never gets tired. As far as I can tell, he's running on Cheerios, pizza, and Mountain Dew."

"Ah, the Teenage Zone," commented Ted.

Brian's drink arrived and he took a grateful sip. "I had to ditch him for at least a few hours before my dick fell off."

Ted covered his face. "Thanks for sharing."

His eyes on the door, Emmett asked, "So where'd he go?"

"Home."

"Well," said Em, "don't look now but I think he's moved."

The guys looked over towards the entrance. Their attention zoomed in on Justin and Daphne. "Oh, shit," swore Brian.

Michael grinned. "You are so fucked."

"Twelve inches long, seven inches thick. And without lube," added Ted brightly.

Like rats deserting a sinking ship, the guys abandoned Brian to his fate. He finished his drink in one gulp and waited for the waves to close over his head, hoping he'd drown before the sharks got to him.

The two teens made their way over to the bar.

"Hi, Brian," chirped Daphne.

"Hey, Daphne." He managed a weak smile but it quickly died in the face of Justin's displeasure.

Justin said nothing.

Looking around desperately for someplace else to be, Daphne spotted the guys by the pool table. "Excuse me."

Brian avoided looking at Justin for as long as he could and then he bit the bullet. "So..."

"Working hard," Justin said, the implication clear.

"Justin--"

"If you didn't want to be with me, you could have--"

"I told you I had work to do."

"And you had to do it here?"

A couple of men at a nearby table glanced over at the two but a sharp look from Brian sent them scurrying back to their conversation.

"I didn't know I had to have your permission to leave the house."

"You can do whatever the hell you want. It's obvious I'm nobody." The teen started to leave but Brian caught his arm.

"Justin, wait--"

He pulled away. "Fuck you! You wanted to be alone, so be alone." Motioning to Daphne to come on, Justin stormed out of the bar, his friend hustling to keep up with him.

After the teenaged tornado had gone, the guys rejoined Brian.

Emmett made a face. "Ouch."

"Someone's been keeping up with his teen dramas," observed Ted.

Michael nudged Brian. "You okay?"

"What the fuck do you think?" Brian growled, getting up and almost knocking over the barstool in the process. "Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you love him," Em reminded him.

Brian threw down some money for his drink. "Yeah. That's it." Wearily, he made his way to the door and sank into the night. 

 

Justin heard Brian coming up the stairs long before the man summoned the courage-- and controlled his temper enough-- to enter the room. Without knocking. Neither said anything. Instead of sitting, Brian stood studying the self-portrait and the sketch of him that Justin had pinned to the wall. The teen watched him for a few moments from his desk, then spoke. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" asked Brian, turning to look at him. "Being eighteen?"

Justin got up and joined his lover. Brian put his arm around his shoulders and Justin laid his head against the older man's chest. "I didn't mean to say those things."

"The truth," prompted Brian.

"I don't know how to feel when you push me away."

"I didn't push you--"

"It felt like you did."

Brian removed his arm and walked over to the window, leaned against the ledge. "Justin, I had work to do. And sometimes..." He cast about for the right words to say, not wanting to hurt him again. "Sometimes I..." He glanced around the room, feeling a little disoriented, having this conversation in Mikey's room. Kept expecting Michael to be lying on the bed reading a comic book. Kept catching glimpses of himself in the mirror, wondering who was that man and where had the boy gone? "I'm not used to being part of a couple."

"What about you and Cam?"

"That was a long time ago."

Justin looked away. "Maybe you loved him more than you love me."

"Cam and me... that has nothing to do with us. The problem with us is that I'm thirty and you're eighteen."

"So?"

"So, it means that sometimes you'll want to do things and I won't-- or can't-- and sometimes I'll want to do things and you won't or can't."

"I'd do it if I could," said Justin, coming over to him.

"But you don't have to. We don't have to spend every waking moment together," he explained.

"We don't!" Justin laid his hands on Brian's chest. "We don't see each other all day. And what's gonna happen when I start college? I won't ever see you."

"You'll see--"

"Maybe that's what you want." The teen turned away, angry, hurt.

"You're acting childish."

"I am a child!" he yelled. "Or haven't you heard?"

Trying hard to keep his temper, Brian asked in a relatively calm voice, "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to love me!"

And that did it. He exploded. "I do!"

"Hey!"

They nearly jumped out of their skins. It was Deb, downstairs.

"Stop yelling! The neighbors can hear you!"

Brian rubbed his jaw, taking a deep breath, then crossed to Justin and cupped his face, kissed him softly. "I don't know what else I can do or say... It's up to you to believe it." He let Justin go. "Or not. I won't cater to you."

"You don't even try to understand," Justin commented. "You just-- dictate." He tightened his jaw. "Well, I'm not Michael."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means I'm not gonna put up with being brushed off and ignored anymore."

Growing angrier by the moment, Brian said, "I explained to you--"

"You could have said that you'd miss me. That you were sorry--"

"That I had to work?" Brian's brow furrowed. "That's fucking ridiculous."

Justin moved away, turned his back to him. "It's what lovers do."

Brian walked over to him and leaned in as if to kiss him. "It's not what I do." But before Justin could retreat, Brian grabbed his arm, held him in a no-nonsense grip. "If you wanted flowery sentiment and romantic declarations every other hour, you should have fallen in love with Shakespeare instead of me."

Justin looked away, then met Brian's eyes once more. "I don't think I had a choice," he whispered.

Brian's irritation faded in the wake of Justin's words. He took hold of his lover's chin and kissed him hard upon the mouth. "Get your stuff, we're going back to my place." When it looked as if he was going to argue, Brian kissed him again, this time more tenderly, and repeated his orders. "I said, get your stuff because we're going back to my place. Now." And he waited for the teen to pack his bag. 

 

He reached for the phone. "Yeah."

"There's a Cameron McKenna here to see you."

What the fuck does he want? He paused, then said, "Okay." Closed out the file he was working on. Mentally, he tried to prepare himself but, in the end, he gave up and decided he'd deal with whatever it was when Cam arrived. Which he did rather quickly, with a rap on the door to announce his presence. Skipping the pleasantries, Brian got right to the point, "What are you doing here?"

"I thought we could talk." Cam didn't sit, just stood a few feet away, not really looking at Brian directly, just stealing glances at him.

"Your company changing ad agencies?"

"No--"

"Then we have nothing to talk about."

"Brian--"

"What would your better half think of this little visit?" he asked, hoping to give himself the slightest advantage.

Cam locked gazes with him. "He wouldn't think anything about it." For a moment Brian thought he'd been wrong, that Cam hadn't come on personal business, when his former lover added, "Because we split up."

The implication of Cam's words sank in and the significance of his visit became clear. "Fuck no."

Moving closer, Cam said, "I've told you before, I've never stopped loving you."

"Well, that's just too bad. Because I've moved on. And I'm with someone now." Just saying it aloud made Brian feel stronger.

"I read about him in the papers. Figured." Cam admitted begrudgingly, "He is your type, after all: young... beautiful..."

"Smart. Faithful."

Cam let that dig pass. "But he's still a child, Bri. And you need a man."

"I have what I need." Before Cam could question that statement, he said, "And right now, what I want is for you to leave." He stood and opened the door. The expression on his face told Cam that he'd brook no arguments, no further discussion, so he left. Brian slammed the door although he hadn't wanted to, and remained where he was, trembling. Finally, he made his way back to his desk and dropped down into his chair. Took his phone from his jacket pocket, flipped it open, and started to dial Justin's cell when he glimpsed the time. One forty-five. He'd still be in school. Brian laughed to himself, laughed at the situation, at the absurdity of it. 

 

Around four thirty he had managed to put all thoughts of Cam out of his head and was making some follow-up notes to the meeting this morning and preparing to pack up to go home when Cynthia came in bearing a bouquet of irises. "These came for you."

He took the card and opened it although he didn't have to, he recognized the handwriting on the envelope, had gotten bouquets of irises before after they had fought about Cam's infidelities. Read the brief message, _'Don't say no, not yet,'_ and said softly, "Take 'em away."

"I'll put them in some water," she said, misunderstanding him.

"I mean, I don't want 'em."

Cynthia examined the bouquet from all angles. "You mind if I take them then?"

"They're all yours." He threw the card in the wastebasket next to his desk and closed his eyes as she left the office. With the flowers. 

 

Justin was doing his homework at the counter while dinner cooked in the oven when Brian finally arrived around six. The blond looked up briefly. "Hey."

"Hey," replied Brian, pausing to brush lips with him before heading for his bedroom to change. "What's for dinner?"

"Chicken. Roasted."

Brian removed his jacket and hung it up. "Maybe you should open an art gallery/restaurant when you graduate from college. You can exhibit your stuff and serve as head chef."

"I could call it _The Art of Cooking."_

Off came the shirt and the slacks. "Catchy. I think you should do it."

"Only if you do the advertising."

"At a discount." He slipped on an old pair of jeans and a plain, white t-shirt.

"Not for free?"

Coming down the steps, he said, "Everything has a price." Even though he had meant it lightly, it hadn't come out that way and Justin was instantly alert.

"Oh, I forgot." The teen pointed to Brian's desk. "That came for you. You must have blown them away at that meeting."

Next to his computer was a slender green vase with three Calla lilies in it. Keeping his face as expressionless as possible, Brian walked over to them and plucked the accompanying envelope from amongst the flowers. "I guess you didn't read the card."

Justin laid down his highlighter. "No." Closed his book, sensing this was something important. "They aren't from your clients?" He waited for Brian to open the card but he didn't.

"They're from Cam."

He didn't ask how Brian knew, didn't want to know. All he wanted was to toss the flowers out the window and forget that they had ever been delivered. But he made himself ask, "Why'd he send you flowers?"

The ad exec left the card unopened next to the vase and crossed to the kitchen. Opened the oven and peeked at the roasting chicken. Took a bottle of water from the fridge. "He stopped by work today." Drank about half. "Seems he and the Living Ken Doll have called it quits."

"So he came looking for you." Justin's chest tightened and his mouth went suddenly dry. "What did you tell him?"

"What do you think I told him?" Brian finished his water and tossed the container in the recycling bin. Waited for Justin to answer him but the teen didn't. "I see." He glanced away. "You don't trust me."

"I didn't say that," Justin began.

"You didn't have to. But, then again, why should you?" he asked. Leaving the kitchen, he started for the bedroom and stopped in the middle of the floor. "After all," he added, "you don't even believe that I love you--"

"Bria--"

"So why would you believe that I would turn him down?"

Justin got up and went to Brian, tried to touch him but Brian pulled away. "Please-- I wasn't thinking--"

"You think I would take him back, after what he did to me? He lied to me, about everything. And you think I could just forget that? Forget the past seven years? Forget meeting you and everything that we've been through? Forget the fact that I've changed my entire fucking life for you!"

Justin took a step backwards, stunned by the anger and the pain in Brian's voice. He returned to the counter and just held onto it, his back to Brian, unable to say anything in his defense because there had been a moment when he had wondered, What if... He heard Brian stirring in the bedroom, then saw him approach the door. "Where are you going?"

"Out," he replied and he left.

Fighting back the tears, Justin sat in one of the bar chairs and tried not to feel as if he had ruined everything. 

 

Brian drove down to the riverfront and parked. Got out and sat on a bench. He used to do that all the time as a teenager-- when he wasn't with Mikey. Hitched or took the bus down to the river and sat for hours at a time, just staring at the water, not really seeing it, but the motion of the currents soothing to him anyway.

Fuck, he couldn't believe it. Just when he thought he had figured everything out, the world changed and the rules changed right along with it. He couldn't believe the insane argument he had just had with Justin. The second in forty-eight hours. And the latest one, over something he had actually done right. It was like being in the fuckin' Twilight Zone... all day.

Cam... What the fuck had he been thinking? Just because he was a free agent didn't mean he could saunter into Brian's office and pick up where they had left off seven years ago. And where was that anyway? Them breaking up. Or, rather, Cam dumping him. Not even worthy of a face-to-face confrontation. He had just disappeared. And then a week later, ended it, on the goddamn telephone. His eyes hardened. No. There was never any doubt in his mind: he didn't want Cam.

So why had he returned home and gone about three rounds with Justin? All the teenager had done was to ask him what he had told Cam and he freaked. Totally lost his temper. But he wasn't being unreasonable. It fuckin' hurt that Justin didn't trust him. And, at the same time, he couldn't help but understand why he didn't. Hell, he wasn't sure if he trusted himself. All the same, it hurt. To see the doubt in Justin's eyes. 

 

He didn't have any idea when Brian might return. Appetite ruined, he placed a couple of sheets of aluminum foil over the roasted chicken and returned it to the unlit oven. Maybe he'd feel like eating later. When Brian returned. If he returned. Nights like this he was just as apt to go over to Michael's place and crash as he was to come home.

Why had he questioned Brian? It should have been obvious from his behavior what he had told Cam. Only, he had wanted to hear him say it aloud, say that he didn't want Cam, that the person he wanted was Justin. But Brian wouldn't say that, wouldn't ease his fears.

He didn't know why he needed Brian to say those things to him, but he did. He longed for Brian to tell him a hundred times a day that he loved him. Maybe, maybe it was to make up for all the months when he had to do without. And it drove him crazy that he needed to hear the words so much, but he did. What was wrong with wanting to hear your lover say that he loved you?

Why couldn't Brian, for once, understand what it was like not to be self-confident, not to be so goddamned self-assured? He knew that Brian got scared and confused, he had seen him at his lowest, but the man constantly pretended that everything was under control-- and he didn't have to, he had Justin; and Justin, in theory, was supposed to be able to depend on him. Instead of fighting, they should have been setting the table, getting ready to share a meal. A life. And look at them. Brian was out God knows where and he was in the loft alone.

Miserable, Justin laid down on the bed and curled up on Brian's side, smelling his scent on the pillows and comforter. They had only been together a few weeks. How were they ever going to last a lifetime? Brian would say, 'Fuck it, you only have now,' but he couldn't. He wanted it all. 

 

There was no sign of Justin. Taking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of the sofa, he went into the kitchen. Found the note on the refrigerator door. _'Dinner's in the oven. I'm sorry.'_ Appetite having faded an hour ago, he made for the bedroom and came up short in the doorway. Justin lay on Brian's side of the bed, just out of sight of the door. Asleep. Quietly, Brian took off his boots and socks and crept back out of the bedroom. Let him sleep while he could. They'd make up later. 

 

There were more flowers waiting for him when he arrived at work. Bouquets of roses, and lilies, orchids, and carnations, snapdragons, and daisies on every available surface. Fighting the impulse to knock them over, he took off his jacket and waited for Cynthia to arrive. "I want these out of here."

"What do you want me to do with them?"

"I don't care. Give 'em to unwed mothers, give 'em to the orphanage, take 'em to the goddamn cemetery, I don't give a fuck, I just want them out of here." He grabbed his day planner from her hands. "Now." Opened it and went over his appointments himself. "And if any more come..."

Cynthia picked up the vase of roses from his desk. "I know, you don't want to see them."

He looked up. "Send them back. If any more come, just send them back."

"Who is it?" she asked, not expecting an response.

"Someone who won't take, 'No,' for an answer," he said, the appointment book open before him, forgotten. Glancing down at it, he saw that he had the morning free. Stood and grabbed his coat. "I'll be back in an hour."

Watching him go, Cynthia felt sorry for the guy he was going to see. 

 

Cam wouldn't have been surprised to see steam coming from the top of Brian's head as he burst in his office.

"I want it to stop. The flowers, the cards, I want you to stop."

"Then talk to me."

Brian leaned over Cam's desk. "I've already said everything I'm going to on the subject."

"Then listen to me."

He backed away. "No." Started to leave.

"What are you afraid of?" Brian paused. "That your relationship isn't strong enough?"

"I didn't see you skulking around when you were happily married."

"I came when you asked. When you needed to see me, I came."

Brian nearly laughed. "You came and you told me it was over, that it had been over for seven years, and that it never would have lasted anyway. And now, how many months later, you're here telling me you love me? That you want us to get back together? Well, fuck it. It's never going to happen."

"You don't know that."

He returned to Cam's desk. "You could send me flowers every day for the rest of my life, and we could get together and talk nonstop for a fucking month, and I still wouldn't take you back."

"Why?"

"Because I can't trust you!" And there it was, the truth, dividing them as surely as if they had stood on opposite sides of the Grand Canyon.

"I've changed, Brian."

"Why did you and he break up?"

"Bri--"

"Why?"

Cam looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I told him that I still had feelings for you."

"And then you and I get together and the next thing I know, you'll discover that you still have feelings for him." He shook his head. "I'm not even tempted. I'm with Justin now."

"Brian, all I'm asking for is two hours. We can have dinner, talk..."

"For what, Cam? There's no point."

The fact that Brian had remained to talk and hadn't stormed in and whirled out meant something. Meant that there might be a chance. If he could wear him down, remind him of why they had gotten together in the first place... So he grabbed at straws. "To close the door on us, then. Once and for all."

"If I have dinner with you this once, that's it? After that, it's over? And you'll leave me alone?"

"I swear."

Brian walked towards the door. "Tomorrow night. Seven o'clock. You pick a place and let me know. I don't give a fuck." And he was gone. 

 

The delivery guy looked Justin up and down as he signed for the flowers-- flower really-- a single long-stemmed white rose blushed pink at the edges. The kid was a total hottie.

Justin scrounged around in his pocket, for a couple of bucks to give him but the man said, "It's okay. Taken care of on the other end. Enjoy."

"Yeah. Thanks," replied Justin and he closed the door after the guy started down the stairs. Cam again. Wanting to open the envelope but afraid to, knowing how angry Brian would get if he did, he, instead, held it up to the light to see if he could read what it said. Luckily, the card was one-sided, not the folding kind, and he could read the letter printed on it perfectly: "M". Clearly, it meant something to both of them or else Cam would have written out the word. Justin laid the envelope back down next to the flower, frowning. How much longer was he supposed to put up with this shit? The guy was trying to seduce Brian right in front of his face. And what? Was he supposed to sit back and watch it happen? Brian had told him that he had no intention of encouraging Cam, that he just wanted his ex-lover to disappear, but it was clear that Cam had no such intentions. And as much as he loved Brian and trusted him, he and Cam shared a history, had been together for almost two years. In light of Brian's subsequent track record, that was a lifetime. Who was to say that under the right circumstances, Brian wouldn't accept Cam's offer? A romantic dinner at their favorite restaurant, dancing, and then back to Cam's place-- or the loft-- for a night of hot sex. Justin told himself he was just being foolish but he couldn't erase the image of Brian with some faceless man. He wondered if Brian would even bother to tell him what the letter "M" signified. According to the clock and Brian's message, he'd be home in a half hour; so Justin would just have to wait and see. 

 

Around six thirty Brian pulled open the door. Spotted Justin studying on the sofa. "Hey."

Justin lifted his head. "Hey. You got a rose."

"Yeah," he said, and headed to the bedroom with Justin behind him.

"What do you want to do about dinner? I feel like going out. Maybe hit Babylon afterwards."

But Brian shook his head. "I'm tired." He stripped off his suit and tried to ignore the look of disappointment on Justin's face. Down to his jockeys, he sat on the bed with his hands hanging listlessly between his knees. When Justin sat down next to him and kissed him, he sighed. "Maybe the guys are going and you can hang out with them," he suggested.

"I'd rather stay home with you."

"I'm beat," he said, giving Justin a look to let him know there'd be no sex tonight.

"I don't care." He kissed Brian again. "How about tomorrow?"

"Can't." He had hesitated just a second but he could tell that Justin had noticed. Still, there was nothing he could do but finish the lie. "I have to take a client out to dinner."

The teenager tried to pretend that he didn't know Brian was lying but he was only partially successful. "Another client like Telson?"

"No," Brian replied, getting up and pulling on a pair of sweats. "A total breeder."

Climbing down from the bed, Justin headed for the kitchen. "You want a sandwich or do you want me to fix something else?" he asked, referring to the leftover roasted chicken.

"I don't care," came the muffled response.

Suddenly drained, Justin opened the fridge and pulled out the chicken.

Brian came out and took down two plates, still ignoring the rose on the counter, still ignoring the dark mood that had descended upon Justin. While the teen sliced the chicken, he got out the lettuce and tomatoes, the mayonnaise for Justin, the rye bread, and opened a bag of chips.

Looking over at him, Justin commented, "You're turning into a pretty decent family man."

"Don't say that," came out of his mouth before he could stop the words and immediately he could see Justin freeze up. Fuck. Why couldn't he ever think first? That's all Justin needed to hear, especially with that fuckin' rose staring him right in the face. In an attempt to explain the severity if his comment, he added, "It reminds me of my old man."

They ate on the floor in the living room, Cartoon Network in the background. Every now and again Justin's face would light up and he'd laugh at something on the television. Then his attention would turn towards the kitchen and Brian knew he was thinking about the rose and what it meant.

Finally, Justin asked, "Aren't you going to see what it says?"

"Not interested," he replied, because he already knew what it would say: "M". For the Marketplace. It had been his and Cam's favorite place to go whenever they had wanted to get away from the crowd at Babylon or the diner. No way would Cam have missed an opportunity like that, to remind him of the good times. And there had been plenty of romantic dinners followed by long, slow bouts of lovemaking that had left them exhausted and completely satisfied. No one, not even Justin, could top him the way Cam had. Just thinking about it made him shiver and he turned away to keep Justin from seeing the lust in his eyes when he had made it clear that they wouldn't be making love tonight.

The rose. It was like the tell-tell heart. He couldn't stop thinking about it, was just about to go crazy wondering what "M" meant. And Brian, fuck him, Justin knew who he was going to see tomorrow. "M" had to be the place where they were meeting. He wanted to scream because he knew that's why Brian didn't want to go out tonight, why he wouldn't make love, not because he was tired but because he was brooding over Cam. And Justin knew, despite the insecurities and doubts about the longevity of their relationship, he knew that Brian loved him. He knew that to be true. It was just that... He got up and took their plates and empty beer bottles to the kitchen, tossed the bottles in the recycling and put the dishes in the dishwasher. In between one motion and the next he made up his mind. He returned to the sofa and knelt beside Brian, kissed him. "I'm restless. I'm gonna go see if Em and the guys are at Babylon."

Kissing Justin once more, Brian said, "Don't stay out too late. You've got school tomorrow."

They kissed a third time and parted. Brian refused to look at the teen as he left and Justin kept his eyes on the door, that way they could both pretend that nothing was wrong. 

 

He didn't know what he was doing, only that Brian would be majorly pissed when he found out. Several times during the cab ride over, he had nearly stopped the driver and told him to turn around, take him back home, but he hadn't. So now he stood downstairs at Cam's building pressing on the call button. A deep voice answered, "Yeah?"

Taking a deep breath, he replied, "I need to talk to you. About Brian." The buzzer sounded and the lock released the door. As he waited for the elevator he thought, This is it.

Getting off the elevator, he looked for apartment number 321. Luckily there hadn't been any other Cameron McKenna's in the telephone book although there had been about ten C. McKenna's. Hoping he'd hit pay dirt the first time, he decided to start with the one Cameron and work his way down the C's if he failed. But he hadn't. And now he was on his way to meet face-to-face with Brian's old lover. As he raised his fist to knock on the door, it opened.

_Blond…_

_Brunnett..._

_Blue eyes..._

_Blue eyes like mine..._

_Looks even better than the picture in the paper..._

_He's gorgeous. I can't imagine what he and Brian look like together…_

All of these thoughts ran through their heads on their initial inspection of the competition.

Cameron spoke first. "Well, come on in." He stepped to the side to let Justin pass.

Although he hadn't come to critique the man's decor, he did glance at the room just long enough to decide that he had taste. His apartment was nowhere near as cool as the loft, but it'd do.

Closing the door, Cam said, "Pretty ballsy, coming over here to talk to me. Or are you here to fight?"

"I want to know why." There was no point in satisfying Cam's need to treat him like an out-of-control teenager by even addressing that comment. "Why now? It's been seven years since you broke up with him and all of a sudden you want him back. Why?"

First sally returned, Cam decided to play along, to tell the truth. "When I was ready to settle down, years ago, I wanted to go to him. But by then, I had already started hearing the rumors. How he never did anybody twice. Would show up at the clubs, high, fuck some guy, and go home. Or take some trick back to his place and fuck him, and then toss him out of bed the next morning. So it was obvious that he wasn't ready to be part of a couple. I wanted him, but I couldn't have him."

Justin, knowing how angry Brian got when people made assumptions about who and what he was, asked, "Did you ever ask him?"

"I went looking for him once, to Babylon. I went there thinking maybe, maybe they were wrong. And I saw him, whispering in some guy's ear on the dance floor. And this guy's face, high as he was, just lit up. And Brian..." Cam paused, remembering that evening, how beautiful Brian had looked, wearing a slinky red shirt opened to the middle of his chest, sweat beading on his skin, lips full and slightly parted. "Brian barely smiled but his eyes, his eyes gleamed. He was so fucking into the power trip, the control he had over this trick, that I knew he would never let that go. Not for me. Not for us."

So Justin repeated his question although he knew the answer. "Why now?"

"When he came to see me, to ask me to come over and talk, I started to think that maybe he had changed. But Tommy and me, we had been together for so long, it didn't make any sense to throw that away on the chance that Brian might be ready to settle down. Anyway, one night Tommy and I got into an argument and I went out dancing. Decided to go to Babylon. And I saw you two together. Saw the way you looked at him. The same way he used to look at me. Same way I used to look at him. And I wanted him. God, I have never wanted anything more than I wanted him at that moment. But I still wasn't sure. And then I read about you in the papers and I realized that maybe he had changed, if he was with you."

Angrily, Justin lashed out. "He's in a relationship, so that's your cue to try and win him back? He's with me."

"Seeing you two together reminded me of the old days."

"He doesn't like to think about the old days," Justin said.

Cam smiled. "You sure about that? Maybe you're the one who doesn't like it because you weren't there." A tiny flicker in Justin's eyes betrayed him and Cam continued. "How does it feel? When he goes to Michael with some problem? How does it feel when he shuts you out?"

Justin thought about all the times he had known that Brian was with Michael, crying on his shoulder, seeking comfort from him and he made himself lie to keep Cam from scoring any points. "He doesn't."

"Did he tell you about his dad? About the shit the old bastard put him through?"

"He told me," he replied simply, not wanting to give anything away to Cam, that he might use against him with Brian.

The older man gestured to a seat but Justin wouldn't accept it, so he remained standing as well. "Did he tell you about the award he won? For that HIV awareness campaign?"

"Yeah," answered Justin, unsure as to where this was leading.

"Did he tell you that his parents showed up to the awards dinner? That they had never even seen the ad? Didn't have a freakin' clue. And when Brian got his award, they projected the ad behind him and his dad-- I was sitting with them, a friend supposedly-- his dad said, 'He got an award for a fuckin' faggot ad? How the fuck does he know what they do together?" And I'm sitting there, and I'm thinking, He fuckin' knows more about it than you can imagine. But I didn't say anything. Because he didn't want them to know. And I couldn't blame him." Cam's face darkened. "His dad fuckin' rode his back all the rest of the evening about that ad and when we got back to his place, he just laid there on the bed... and cried. For a solid hour. And there was nothing... I could do. He put that award in the closet and I never saw it again." Cam blinked back the tears and took a breath before answering. "Did he tell you about that?"

Softly, Justin replied, "We're just starting out," the excuse sounding weak even to him.

"There's always gonna be things that he won't tell you about because he can't go back and relive years of shit every time you want to know what happened," said Cam and he was honestly angry for Brian's sake, that he had been put through all that crap in the first place. "He doesn't have to do that with me."

"What about the past seven years when you weren't there? What about the past year, when he and I were together? Were you there when he told his dad he was gay?" and the words were out of his mouth before he could think. Shit. Still, he continued. "No. You weren't. But I was. I was there."

Cam conceded the point but, instead of acknowledging it, he changed tactics. "You really think you can handle Brian? The drinking, the drugs, the depression, the moodiness, the men-- because there will be other men." Justin looked away, not wanting to deal with that issue, not with Cam, not even with himself. He didn't know what he would do. "You're just a kid. You'd be better off finding someone less... complicated. Someone who won't tear you apart--"

"You think you can handle him any better?"

"I've been through it before. With him. With myself. I've felt the same things, done the same things." Cam laughed a little. "I bet he totally freaked over turning thirty and I bet you didn't understand. Not really. And how could you? You're only eighteen."

"You're right. I'm only eighteen and I'm always gonna be twelve years younger than Brian. But that's no reason for us not to be together."

Remembering how Justin had turned away at the mention of Brian's casual liaisons, Cam returned to that point. "And you won't be bothered by the other men? By the guys he fucks in the backroom? Or maybe brings back to his place when you're not there? Is that what you want? How's that gonna fit into your dream of a happy, monogamous life together?"

"Like the dream he had about the two of you?" When Cam didn't answer, Justin said, "I don't have any illusions about what Brian does. But I know that he loves me."

"So you're gonna forgive all of his faults? Put up with other men touching him? Be there when he needs you? I suppose you're a saint," Cam said derisively.

The teen shook his head. "No. But I love him."

"Love wasn't enough to save him and me."

And Justin smiled for the first time since he arrived. "Me and Brian, we're nothing like you and Brian."

Cam was shaken by the teen's newfound confidence. "So you're gonna fight for him?"

"I don't have to," he said. "I trust him. I trust us."

"Then why are you here?" Cam asked, hoping to trip Justin up.

"To tell you that you're hurting him," replied Justin. He looked straight into Cam's eyes. "If you really loved him, you would let him go."

Despite the difficulty of looking into eyes that were so like his own, Cam asked, "Could you?"

And Justin remembered the talk he had had with Michael when they thought Brian was going to move to New York. "I wouldn't have a choice. You can't stop Brian from doing what he wants to do."

"And if he wants to be with me?"

Justin kept his eyes on Cam. "Then I'll walk away. Could you?" Without waiting for an answer, the teen let himself out.

Left alone, Cam slumped onto the arm of the couch, exhausted and uncertain for the first time, disturbed by the idea that maybe he might not be able to win Brian back. 

 

Justin sat in the back of the darkened taxi and Cam's words kept coming back to him despite his best efforts to block them out of his mind. Slowly, the tears began to roll down his cheeks and he felt afraid, afraid that Brian might be tempted, that Cam might be right. He turned and looked out of the window, seeing the world pass by in hazy streaks of light. 

 

Cam looked up and saw him coming and it was like the world around them ceased to exist. Tousled hair, sweeping lashes, curved lips, and those eyes... that connected with his from across the room, seeing nothing else but him. Brian removed his leather frock coat and draped it across the back of one of the unused chairs at their table and Cam couldn't focus on anything but the long, smooth column of his neck, the muscular forearms where he had pushed up his sleeves, the veins in the backs of his hands, the strong fingers. This was what he wanted, this man, unlike any other. He lifted his wineglass and took a sip. He would have him. 

 

Justin had been unable to study, thinking about Brian and Cam. Finally, around eight, he gave up and took out his sketchpad, worked on yet another drawing of Brian. Only, this time he had trouble capturing on paper his lover's features. It was as if he didn't know him anymore. All day he had fought to keep it together, made himself not call Brian and beg him to cancel his plans.

An hour later, just as he was about to turn in for the night, he heard footsteps outside his door. It opened and in walked Brian. Looking absolutely devastating. Justin's heart began to race. If Brian had gone to meet Cam like that, what did it mean? Brian sat on the bed by his feet, looked down at his hands and Justin wanted to run away. He swallowed and told himself not to lose it, to just breathe.

Then Brian began to speak. "He came armed with all these reasons why he and I should be together... and it was some powerful shit." He smiled softly. "How he was my first love; that he understood me; he wouldn't make demands of me that I couldn't meet... the fact that we were the same age; that we have a history together-- even if we did crash and burn... we're in the same business; have the same interests; done the same drugs; probably some of the same guys... He had all that." Brian paused. "And all I had was the fact that for some goddamn reason, I'm in love with an eighteen-year-old twink. Who hasn't even finished high school; who aggravates the hell out of me; and who doesn't know shit... except that he loves me."

In the silence that followed, Brian raised his head and looked over at Justin.

When he could speak again, Justin asked softly, "So what did he do?"

"He paid the bill and he left. For good."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Brian stood and Justin did too, alarmed.

Where are you going?"

"Home," replied Brian, and he sounded so tired that Justin wanted to draw him into his bed to rest. Then Brian smiled. "Tomorrow... how about we spend the day together? Whatever you want to do."

Justin's face lit up. "No matter what?"

"No video arcades," amended Brian. "Beyond that, it doesn't matter."

"Then wear your sweats and sneakers." Justin, desperate to touch him, slipped his hand inside Brian's coat and ran his fingers over his side. Laid his head upon his shoulder.

"Are we going to the gym?" Brian asked, sliding his arms around the teen, giving himself permission to finally touch Justin.

"You'll see."

Brian kissed Justin's upraised face, making his way from his cheeks to his lips. They remained like that, arms about one another, kissing for a while and then they eased apart. "Tomorrow," said Brian.

"Tomorrow." Justin didn't attempt to keep him longer, he could hear in his voice the weariness, the pain he must have been feeling, having finally put away a huge part of his past for good. So he watched him from the top of the stairs, watched him meld into the night. 

 

As he made his way to the bedroom, his eyes fell upon the rose lying on the counter. The edges browned. He picked it up and held it, hand trembling. Then laid the rose and his head upon the counter and cried. He couldn't have told Justin that walking away from Cam had been the hardest thing he had ever done: turning his back on the easier path to take a journey with him, on a trail whose destination was far from certain.

_"It'd be an adventure." Justin laid his head upon Brian's shoulder, so overwhelmed that he couldn't speak. Brian held him tight and ruffled his hair. "Promise me something," he said softly._

_And Justin answered, "Anything."_

_"Promise me you won't change."_

_"Okay," agreed Justin. "Because I love you, I swear I'll never change. I'll always be young and cute--"_

_"And modest," Brian interjected._

_"And incredibly smart," he added. Then he smiled. "And in love with you."_

_"I love you."_

_Brian leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the lips. "How much?"_

_Pretending to think, Cam said, "More than the ocean."_

_"Fucker." Another kiss. "Not good enough. How much?"_

_"More than ice cream."_

_Another kiss. "Better. But still... not good enough. How much?"_

_Cam held Brian's head still and kissed him deeply. "More than my life."_

_Brian touched Cam's lips with his fingertips. "Liar."_

 

They had the best of days together. Went to see the first matinee showing of Moulin Rouge and had hot dogs and popcorn, although Justin had to bully Brian into eating it.

"Come on."

"I'm not--"

"You'll work it off. I promise."

" Fine. I hope you remember this when I die an early death."

"Just shut up and eat the fuckin' hot dog."

"You know, you're gettin' kind of bossy."

"It's my day."

"But the night belongs to me." 

 

And afterwards bike riding in the park.

"Bike riding?"

"You remember, don't you? It's just like fucking: you never forget how."

"Cute. What happens when I fall off?"

"You get back on."

"What if I hurt myself?"

"I won't let you." 

 

Then dinner.

"Please tell me we are not having pizza for dinner."

"It's the best in the city."

"But it's still pizza."

"Trust me, you'll love it."

"You're trying to kill me. This is punishment right? For Cam?"

"It's a reward. For both of us." 

 

And, lastly, home to the loft.

They tumbled through the door, laughing as they kissed and tried to remove their clothes. Brian reached out and closed the door before they stumbled into the living room, too impatient to wait until they had reached the bedroom. Somehow, miraculously, they got undressed and sank down upon the floor, still kissing; hands busy stroking, kneading, trying to grab hold of shifting, twisting bodies.

Condom in place, lube applied, Justin held onto the arm of the sofa and lowered himself onto Brian's cock. Brian, kneeling behind him, wrapped one arm around Justin's waist and the other around his chest to steady himself as he thrust up into his body. At first they hardly parted, Justin just sitting on his cock while Brian rose and fell beneath him so that Brian's dick never slid out of him-- like riding on a carousel. Brian's hand found Justin's cock and began stroking it as they moved together.

Then, wanting more, Justin got to his feet, squatting over Brian, who began pumping his meat in and out of his lover's warm, tight hole. Justin's legs began to ache but he didn't want to move, to end this, not yet, just one more, one more, just-- "Oh God," he whispered. "Oh God, oh..." Squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh." But it wasn't enough, they both wanted more, so he stood and whimpered as Brian slipped out of him; leaned over onto the sofa, one knee on the arm, his elbows digging into the cushion, his ass in the air, waiting for his man to mount him.

Brian groaned as he plunged back into Justin. He loved the way the teen's lush buttocks parted for him to reveal the wet, muscular hole, wrinkled lips smoothing, stretching around his cock as he entered him. And he fucked him deep and hard: ramming his dick into him, wrenching it back out, only to hammer it home again. Justin was muttering, crying out, begging him to fuck him, fuck him, a nonstop flow of grunts and utterances that had the same affect as a hand encircling the base of his cock, or a finger up his ass, or a pair of lips wrapped around his balls. He cried out and jerked as he came, pounding Justin's asshole with each spasm.

Withdrawing his dick from Justin's well-fucked ass, Brian turned the teen over so that he laid on his back, spread his legs, and lowered his mouth onto his throbbing cock. Justin's spine arched as Brian sucked the rigid shaft and he moaned as the man's tongue swirled around the swollen head. "I'm gonna come," he whispered between breaths and he clenched his teeth. But Brian didn't release him, only lowered his head so that the tip of Justin's cock entered his throat. Too far-gone to issue another warning, Justin whimpered and grabbed the seat cushions as his cock head expanded and a torrent of cum struck the walls of Brian's throat and dripped down. Quickly followed by another. Brian rose up a little so that the end of Justin's dick rested on his tongue and he sucked the fat bulbous head, encouraging the teen to give him more. Which he did. A mouth full of creamy cum. When it seemed that Justin had finished, he lifted his head free and swallowed, licked his lips to capture any juice that might have tried to escape. Then, gently, he coaxed the very last drops from Justin's pole, cleaning the entire surface of every salty-sweet trace.

Tears streaked Justin's face as he watched Brian tongue-wash his cock. 

 

Justin lay cradled in Brian's arms. "I want to taste you."

But Brian shook his head. "No. It's not safe."

"You did it."

"I shouldn't have," he said and he pulled away a bit from Justin, fixed his gaze upon him. "Promise me you won't. Not ever." When it seemed that Justin hesitated, he said, "I can't ever lose you," and his eyes grew shiny at the thought. "Promise me."

And Justin did. "I swear." Then he grinned, desperate to make Brian smile. "Now, what's my reward for being a good boy?"

Brian's lips twisted as he thought. He leaned over and whispered into the teen's ear. Justin burst out laughing.

"Can you really do that?"

And Brian shook his head. "Is this what it's gonna be like for the rest of our lives? Me having to prove everything to you?"

As his lover rose to rummage through his toy chest, Justin's tongue flickered over his lips. "That's right. Over and over again." 

 

Title taken from a painting by Morris Graves.


	5. Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin graduates from St. James, while Brian attempts to cross a threshold of his own.

Under the pretense that he was going to wear one of the suits his mom had bought him during the past year, Justin let her go through his wardrobe to find appropriate graduation attire. Only, Brian had already promised to buy him something special for his extra special day and he couldn't wait for them to go shopping again. Still, he liked spending time with his mom now that they no longer lived together. It was as if the distance between them geographically made them closer emotionally, now that they weren't constantly chaffing against one another. "Is Dad coming?"

She selected a suit and held it up against him. "I wouldn't look for him, honey. Daddy, well... he's never been that thrilled about... things."

"My being gay." Glancing down at the suit, he thought, Not even.

"And this relationship with Brian... It's going to take time."

"Graduation's next Saturday."

"I know."

He hadn't asked before, and wasn't sure if he ought to now, but he did. "Are you okay with me and Brian?"

Thinking carefully but quickly so as not to upset him, she replied, "I understand what you see in him."

"You're not."

"Honey... I still think he's too old for you, but... he loves you. And that's all that matters." They both knew that it wasn't but what was the point in going into that now?

"Would you talk to Dad, tell him I want him to come?"

"I'll try but-- Justin... Don't get your hopes up, okay?" She put the first suit back and selected another. "So are you going to move in with Brian?"

"I don't think so. Least not right now." Brian hadn't even mentioned the possibility of it ever happening.

"You okay with that?"

"I guess."

"Then you're not."

"I want to be with him." That was the truth but he also understood how hard it would be for Brian to share his space with someone else, how hard it had been for those few short weeks before the robbery.

"What does he want?" she asked, holding the second suit up against him, remembering how he had looked in it when she'd first purchased it about eight months ago.

Justin thought about her question. "Time, I guess. To get used to us first."

"He's probably right, honey. It's a big adjustment." Jennifer hesitated, then asked, "Is he still... seeing other people?"

"I don't know."

"Have you asked him not to?"

"No." They hadn't even talked about it, he didn't know if he wanted to even ask. No, he didn't want to ask. He was happy being ignorant.

"Is it okay with you if he does?" While she waited for him to answer, she mused over the fact that even though it had only been eight months the suit no longer fit, not physically, but in terms of who Justin was now. He had changed so much.

"I don't know," he answered at last.

"Justin-- honey..."

"It doesn't mean anything to him. It's just sex."

"But it means something to you."

Remembering how Brian and Cam's relationship had ended and over what, he said, "If that's the only thing standing between us, then it's not so much."

"You sure?"

He paused before speaking. "No."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"No!" he said vehemently. "It's not the right time."

"Just don't let the resentment build until it comes between you and you can't find your way around it. If you want this to last, you need to tell him how you feel."

Her words sounded sincere and he wondered how much of her advice came from her own personal experiences with his dad. So he decided to tell her the truth too. "I don't know how I feel."

Jenn paused with a third suit in her hands. "Then tell him that too." 

 

Brian examined the cream-colored Versace, ran his fingers under the lapel. This was it. He signaled an associate and turned Justin over to him. Sat in a nearby chair and watched as the man took measurements and went to find the right size. Good luck, he thought. They'd definitely have to stop by his tailor's shop after they purchased the suit. While they waited, he picked up their conversation where they'd left off before he spotted the Versace. "So what'd she say about your dad?"

"That he probably wouldn't come." Despite his joy at the prospect of getting a new suit, Justin was a little subdued. "It's okay."

Brian crossed his legs. "Now say that again with feeling."

The teen shrugged. "I want him to come but if he doesn't, he doesn't..." The sales associate returned with a suit close to Justin's size, a white shirt, and a red tie, and showed him to a dressing room, Brian in tow. The older man sat on a bench inside the room while the younger one changed. He could barely keep himself from tearing the clothes away from Justin and fucking him right there, but if there was one thing Brian took seriously besides advertising, it was designer clothing. When Justin was finished, he modeled the suit for his lover. "What do you think?"

"Take it off so I can fuck you," Brian threatened and smiled to see the glint in Justin's eye.

"Next Saturday," Justin promised. "It seems to fit okay."

"Except for that ass," observed Brian appreciatively. Definitely would have to have the suit altered.

"You're just jealous," the teen teased, making reference to Brian's tight, little butt.

"I have all the ass I need," replied the ad exec, "and when I want yours..."

"You only have to ask," finished Justin. "Nicely." Brian smacked him on the behind. "Ow!"

"About your dad..." Brian began again while Justin removed the suit.

But Justin cut him off before he could finish his thought. "Look, if he comes, he comes, and if he doesn't, tough shit." He leaned over and kissed his seated lover. "As long as you're in the front row, the place could be empty for all that I'll care."

In spite of his reassurances, Brian wasn't quite convinced. Justin had made several overtures towards his father both when he was living with him and once he had moved in with Deb, and Craig had resisted most of them. Justin cared, he just didn't want to get hurt again. Nevertheless, Brian smiled dutifully and waited for Justin to change back into his jeans. 

 

Taking a very deep breath, he reminded himself for the fiftieth time why he was here and tried to put out of his mind the images of Craig ramming the Jeep or sucker punching him outside of Woody's. He knocked first before entering and prepared himself for the inevitable.

Craig Taylor looked up from what he was doing and scowled. "What the fuck are you doing here and how the hell did you get past my secretary?"

"I told her I was an old friend and I wanted to surprise you." Brian smiled. "I'm very charming when I want to be."

He didn't ask Brian to sit and wouldn't have expected him to accept if he had. "So what do you want?"

"Justin's graduating next Saturday."

"Is this my personalized invitation?" asked Taylor.

"You can call it that."

"The engraved paper one was enough." Craig studied the man before him and tried not to see him with Justin, in an intimate situation. He'd never forgotten Brian talking to what he thought was his latest trick, '...I'm gonna open up your hole with it and fuck you till your eyes roll back in your head.' During his worst fights with Justin, he would flash back to that moment and it only made him angrier, sadder, that he was losing his son to that kind of a man. "You still haven't answered my question: What do you want?"

Brian looked around Craig's office and he couldn't imagine Justin in a place like this, Dartmouth degree on the wall, managing paperwork and people, his heart not in it, wanting nothing more than to whip out a sheet of paper and let his mind go... and he was glad that he had risked talking to the teen, risked exposing himself to keep Justin from making a terrible mistake. Thinking of how cautious he'd been back then in light of his subsequent declarations of love amused him. "I want Justin to be happy and I figure that means striking a deal with you."

Instantly, Craig made an offer, "I'll come if you don't."

Did he honestly think that one would fly? "No deal."

"So you're not willing to compromise?"

"That's not a compromise, that's a capitulation."

"So much for caring about him."

He had tried. There was no point in continuing the conversation. "He wants me to be there, so I'll be there, whether you like it or not. You do whatever the fuck you want." Brian turned to go.

"Why Justin? Why my son?" The ad exec stopped, faced Craig again and Justin's dad was forced to admit that most people would consider Brian to be very attractive. To a teenager, he must have seemed like the answer to a prayer. "There must be plenty of... men your own age who'd..."

"What? Fuck me?" Craig said nothing. "Why do you think I'm with him?"

"How would I know?"

"Maybe that's because you think he's worthless."

"And what's he worth to you? Other than a good fuck?"

"He's a great fuck," Brian amended. "And he's smart. He's talented, loyal, honest, and he cares... about me, about his friends and family, even you. And all you've done lately is piss in his face. But he still wants you to be there."

Yet he couldn't forget the words, _'…I'm gonna open up your hole with it and fuck you till your eyes roll back in your head,'_ and the images they conjured. "Like I said, I'll come if you don't."

"Fuck you." Brian started to go, then paused. He owed it to Justin to try one last time. "You know, when I finally came out to my dad, he pretty much told me he wished I was dead. At least you never said that to Justin."

"Maybe I think he's too good for you. After all, what kind of a man has sex with a minor?"

"He is. Too good for me," Brian admitted. "But I won't apologize for us. And if that's what you're waiting for, you can go to hell." Craig's last words rang out as he was standing in the threshold.

"Why don't you think about what's best for him and let me know?"

Closing the door firmly, Brian wondered what was the best thing for Justin and if he loved him enough to do it-- no matter what. 

 

Dinner over, he loaded the dishwasher and started it. The gentle hum was barely noticeable, competing as it was with the CD player. Justin was in a dancing mood, even if Brian wasn't, and did so by himself while his lover watched bemused from the sofa.

"So what are you wearing to graduation?"

"I don't know," replied Brian absent-mindedly.

"I can't wait to show you off. Again." He danced closer to Brian and held out his hand.

Surrendering to the teen, Brian stood and began dancing with him. As the upbeat tempo was replaced by a slower one, they moved closer together, arms about one another. There was probably no better time than this to broach the subject. "Justin..."

"Hmm?"

Brian looked down into his eyes and changed his mind. "Nothing."

"No. What?"

"I'm really not very good at those kind of things... ceremonies... I fuckin' hated going to my high school graduation and I skipped the college one all together."

Justin stopped dancing. "You're not coming?"

"Ju--"

"No fuckin' way! You promised."

"I didn't say I wouldn't--"

"But you were thinking about it." He moved out of reach. "I can't fucking believe this. After everything that we've been through... for you to just..."

"Justin..."

"If you do this-- How could you..." Suddenly, it was as if the whole world had been turned inside out, was completely unfamiliar and frightening, and infuriating.

"It was either him or me," Brian said softly.

"Him who?"

"Your dad."

Justin couldn't believe his ears. "My dad?"

"He said he'd come if I didn't."

Too stunned to feel relieved that Brian hadn't betrayed him, he refused to even consider the possibility. "No. He can't do that--"

"Listen. Listen to me. He'll come to the ceremony and watch you graduate and then he'll split and we'll still have the party at your mom's place and--"

"I want you there. My dad can go fuck himself."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do." Justin gazed directly into Brian's eyes, to let him see that he was serious, that he was sure of his decision. "He doesn't care about me," he said and he refused to let the words hurt him as the actions had weeks ago. "He came to see me once in the hospital. Once." If he was waiting for Brian to make excuses for the man, he'd have a long wait. So he continued, "All he wants is to make sure I graduate so he can feel that he got his money's worth out of St. James. He hates that I'm going to PIFA and he hates you." Justin slipped his hand around Brian's neck and ran his fingers through the hair at the nape. "I want you there."

Brian kissed the teen softly on the lips and embraced him. They parted and he declared, "Then fuck him. He doesn't deserve to come."

World returned to normal, Justin began moving once more in time with the music. After a bit, so did Brian. The teen smiled. "So what are you wearing to graduation?"

Having selected his outfit a week ago, he replied, "This Yves Saint Laurent outfit that I got in New York... Grey mourning coat, pinstriped trousers, silk sweater... amazing."

Unbuttoning Brian's shirt and running his fingers down his chest, Justin said, "In that case, we'd better make sure you get plenty of exercise, so you look fabulous in it." 

 

They were all there: Jennifer, Deb, Vic, Michael, Emmett, Ted, Lindsay, Mel, and Gus. So, of course, the $64,000 question was: Where was Brian?

"He wouldn't miss Sunshine's graduation," Deb declared. "He's just fashionably late."

"Like he was to the dinner he missed?" inquired Mel.

"And my going away party?" added Michael.

"Gus' birth." Emmett's contribution.

"The bris." That was Ted. Mel cut her eyes at him. "Well, most of it."

"What it? It never happened thanks to that asshole."

"He'll be here," Vic announced, "because he told Justin he would and he hasn't let him down yet."

"He did come to the art show," Lindz reminded them.

"And the prom," said Deb.

Jennifer spoke up. "And he went to New York to find Justin."

Michael looked around. "So where is he? If he misses this, the Boy Wonder'll tear him a... Holy shit."

They all turned to see Craig Taylor coming up the aisle. Spotting his soon-to-be ex-wife, he took the empty seat next to her.

"I'm glad you came," she said, unable to keep from smiling softly.

"He's still my son," he replied, opening his program.

With a note of worry in her voice, Deb asked of the absent Brian, "Where the fuck are you, kiddo?" 

 

From inside the jeep, Brian had seen Justin's dad enter the building. In a way he hated that the man had actually shown up. He'd been hoping that he wouldn't, so that he'd be able to see Justin graduate. But now that Craig was here, he'd do as he promised and not stay. Justin would forgive him for not being there, he wouldn't have forgiven his dad as easily. Still, he couldn't leave it to chance, so he got out of the car and made his way inside to where the graduating class was lined up awaiting their cue to enter the auditorium. Luckily Justin was near the back of the line. He tapped him on the shoulder and pulled him aside.

"Your dad's out there."

"What?" At first he looked excited and then he realized what that meant. "So you're not coming."

"Look, I don't want you to end up like me, rolling a fuckin' bowling ball down the street, trying to make peace with a dead man."

"You could sit in the back and he wouldn't see you. No one would know."

"I would know. I gave my word."

"I want you to see me graduate," said Justin, pouting a little, although he knew that once Brian made up his mind, there was no getting him to change it. Especially about the important things and him giving his word to someone was important.

"I'll be there the next time. Maybe we both will."

"I don't care if he's here."

"Yes, you do. This may be your last chance to get through to him," he said, echoing Deb's words to him about his father.

"Meet me at the house?"

"Where else would I be?" He kissed Justin, heedless of the many pairs of eyes watching them. "You look pretty hot in that robe," he whispered.

"I'll put it on later," Justin promised, "and we can have a private ceremony."

Brian kissed him again. They would be okay. 

 

As he walked down the aisle towards the stage, Justin was barely aware of the people in the audience, his mind on the one person who wasn't there, the person he most wanted to be there watching him take this important step. Despite knowing that Brian was right about his dad, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He guessed Brian did too. And then he smiled, thinking about how hard it must have been for Brian to go to his dad and work out a deal. He knew how much Brian hated compromising but he had done it for him. Because he loved him. Out of all the memories he had of them, the one that remained clearest in his mind was Brian sitting next to him in the hospital, eyes shiny with unshed tears, saying, "I love you," in that way that was uniquely his: simple, honest. "I love you," he'd said, and the world had changed for them both. Justin's smile grew larger, brighter.

Michael glimpsed Craig craning his neck towards the back of the auditorium and wondered who he was looking for, Justin was right there. Then it hit him, that Craig was here and Brian wasn't. Just like he had with him and David, Brian had sacrificed his own happiness to do the right thing for Justin. Not for the first time did Michael wish things could have turned out differently, that he and Brian could have found some way to get together. It would have been hard, he knew that-- Brian could be the meanest sonofabitch that ever walked-- but he had his good days too. Lately, they'd been outnumbering the bad. Maybe that was due to Justin.

Michael watched as Justin ascended the steps to the stage with a little swish of his hips, smiling, and he grinned, imagining the smirk that would have been on Brian's face if he could have seen the teenager right now. Maybe the Boy Wonder was the best thing for Brian. He didn't know. All he knew was that there was probably as much chance of him and Brian getting together as there was of Captain Astro showing up right now in the middle of the auditorium and delivering the commencement address. Remembering his birthday party, he almost laughed. He and Brian loved each other, always would, and that was what mattered most; even if they never became lovers, they would always be best friends and that was definitely better than nothing. Wherever he was, Michael hoped that Brian knew how much he was missed... and loved. 

 

Standing in front of his old man's grave he wondered what in the hell he was doing there. When he had driven off from St. James, he hadn't had any intention of going anyplace except home to wait for the ceremony to end and the party to begin at Jennifer Taylor's house. Now, he found himself at the cemetery reading the name and dates on his pop's headstone. Why the fuck was he here? And then it came to him.

He could still hear his dad talking to one of their drunken relatives, _"It's not Harvard, but who'd ever expect a Kinney to get into an Ivy League school?"_

Maybe he would have, he was smart, made good grades when he was in school. Only the teachers and the guidance counselors hadn't wasted any time on him because they'd only remembered the trouble he had caused, the times he'd cut class, the fights, the unexplained bruises-- which meant no one had pushed him to do any better than Penn State. What was the point? He would only fuck it up.

Brian remembered how hurt and angry he had felt listening to his old man and he had disappeared upstairs with a bottle. Mikey hadn't been there. Deb had taken him out to celebrate, hadn't wanted to share him, not this time. So he'd gone up to his room alone and tried not to think about the cheap gifts he'd gotten from a few of his relatives--most had shown up empty-handed and quickly wrapped their palms around a cold beer or shot of whiskey. Had tried to focus on the future, on the coming fall, on the summer of work ahead to make enough money for books and clothes. And he had wondered what it would have been like to have grown up with money and privileges and taste... and someone other than Jack for a father.

"Come to spit on it?"

He turned, saw his mother standing a few feet away; he hadn't heard her arrival. "You weren't exactly broken up when the old man died," he reminded her.

"He was still my husband." Not a hint of grief, just the proper thing for a widow to say. That was his mother all right, Mrs. Propriety.

"And my father," he said, although to him the assertion sounded weak. Now that there was no reason to tiptoe around the truth, he asked her, "Did he know? How much I hated him?"

Joanie looked away from the tombstone; emotions... confrontations... embarrassed her. "He knew that he had treated you... unfairly."

"Unfairly?" That was all she was going to confess, he knew her, she wouldn't say anything else and that wasn't fucking enough. He started to leave.

"Brian--"

"He fuckin' kicked the crap out of me every chance he got and when he wasn't, he was telling me how I'd never amount to anything, how I was never going to be anything but a punk, a worthless piece of shit. And then when I managed to make something of my life, he came around every other month like the fuckin' United Way to take my goddamn money."

"He intended to pay you back--"

"That's not the point!" He laughed bitterly. "Why am I even trying to explain this to you?" And the anger towards her surfaced, it hadn't been submerged very deep anyway, never was very far out of reach. "You let it happen. You sat by and sipped your fuckin' martinis and you never said a word."

"If I had tried to fight back... I don't know what would have happened."

"So you abandoned your child instead."

She wouldn't look him in the eyes. "You always seemed much stronger than other children... I thought... I thought you could handle it."

"I was stronger because I had to be! Because--" He took a deep breath, started again. "Parents are supposed to protect their kids. I would never--" He stopped abruptly. No. He wouldn't give her Gus. Not yet. Not until he felt stronger.

"Never what?"

"I would never let that happen to my kid."

Her lips tightened in a straight line. "Well, you'll never know, will you?"

And he could see it in her face, more than disappointment, that she... He didn't want to say it, not even to himself, but he couldn't keep it in. "I used to wonder what I had done to make you hate me so much."

"I didn't hate you." Not something she wanted to confess to a priest, he supposed, so she lied to herself about how she really felt, if Joanie Kinney could be said to feel anything. "I just didn't know what to do."

He continued as if she hadn't said anything because he didn't believe her. "But as much as I hated you and Jack... I hated myself more." Suddenly it felt like he had opened his veins and he wouldn't have been surprised to see his blood dripping onto his father's grave.

That was the opening she needed. "Is that why?"

God... so afraid to ask. "Why what?"

"Why you live the way you do?"

He was so tired, he just wanted to curl up next to Jack's headstone and sleep forever. "You mean, why I'm gay?"

"Why you're with that child."

"He's graduating today," he said, thinking of Justin marching down the aisle in his cap and gown, broad smile on his face, ready for the world. "So I guess that makes him a man." But he knew that would never do, not for Joanie.

"It's wrong, Brian, and you know it."

"To be happy?" He scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. "Maybe you're right," he said softly and he headed back to the jeep and to Justin. 

 

Justin had warned them all not to say shit to him or Brian about his missing graduation as they'd gathered around to take pictures of him and Daphne in their regalia. At the same time, he cautioned Daphne with a look not to mention that Brian had shown up just before they'd marched into the auditorium. Once all of the adults had gotten their fill of picture-taking, Daphne left with her parents, promising to drop by his house later, and he and the gang took off for his mom's place. He could hardly sit still he was so anxious to see Brian. It was really strange, how much he longed to be with him and they had only been apart a couple of hours.

He couldn't believe it when his dad had said that he wanted to come back to the house for the party and he'd told him that Brian would be there, that there was no way he was going to be denied having his lover beside him any longer. Still, his dad had insisted, so there they were, one big, happy, dysfunctional family in a mini-caravan of cars headed back to the house.

Halfway up the street he spotted the Jeep parked by the mailbox and he smiled. He still didn't know what Brian had planned for later. He'd told him that he didn't want anything else for graduation, that the suit was enough, but Brian had only grinned and assured him he could afford to buy his little boy another present. Just thinking about Brian calling him, "My little boy," made him shiver. As soon as his mom brought the car to a complete stop, he hopped out and casually-- he hoped-- crossed to where Brian stood, leaning up against the Jeep. His smile about a mile wide, he raised his face for a kiss. Just as they were parting, he said, "Thank you."

"For what?" asked Brian although he knew.

"Everything."

"Could somebody turn the hose on those two?" asked Ted as he passed them.

Emmett pushed him. "Leave 'em alone. They're--"

"In love!" Ted and Michael said, finishing his sentence.

Although they had all-- except Michael-- wondered if Justin really meant what he'd said regarding Brian's absence at graduation, they quickly realized that the had. Which meant they could all relax and enjoy themselves.

Deb glanced around at Jennifer and Craig-- who looked as if they had been plucked out of their familiar surroundings and dropped in the middle of Oz-- and whistled. Everyone stopped talking. "All right, I want everybody on their best behavior."

Emmett raised a hand tentatively. "And which behavior would that be?"

"Think Jackie O, White House reception," explained Ted.

"Gotcha." He batted his eyelashes. "Ladies, to the parlor."

Taking that as a her cue, Jennifer unlocked the house and showed them all to the family room where the buffet table was set up. Then she, Deb, Lindz, and Emmett promptly disappeared into the kitchen to bring out the food. Mel worked the bar, Gus in his seat next to her on the counter. Justin disengaged himself from Brian long enough to put on some music and dragged Brian onto the middle of the floor. Soon they were joined by Ted and Michael and the four men danced until the food arrived.

To his credit, Craig maintained a civil air, mostly sitting and talking with Jen, occasionally replying to something Deb or Vic said. Brian noticed that he avoided looking at him and Justin whenever Justin wanted to be affectionate but he didn't dissuade the teen. It was his day after all and Craig would have to deal with it. Still, he began to feel a little down, a residual effect from his confrontation with Joanie, and he longed to escape from the noise and commotion. Then Daphne came over and she and Justin giggled like a couple of... teenagers. As soon as he saw that Justin was occupied examining two of Daphne's graduation gifts, he stepped into the next room, made his way to the back of the house and, by accident, found the door to the backyard. 

 

Leaving his other guests in search of the only one that mattered, Justin pulled open the sliding doors and found Brian sitting on the edge of a chaise lounge by the pool. Smoking. His suit jacket laid across the seat of the chair. Justin, taking a look back to make sure no one had followed him, joined Brian. Took a hit off his cigarette, which earned him a frown from his lover. "You okay? You were really quiet in there."

"Between Deb, your mom, Emmett, and Daphne, there's not enough oxygen left to sustain a conversation."

Justin leaned against Brian's shoulder. "I thought it might have been my dad."

"I'm glad he came." He stubbed out the last of the cigarette. "It's your day, you should be happy."

"I am." He kissed Brian on the cheek. "Thanks to you." When Brian didn't reply, Justin sat forward, looked around at Brian's face. "Something is wrong. What is it?"

"Nothing," he replied. Eyes fixed on the rippling aqua-colored water. He smiled. "I can't imagine what's next. Thanksgiving dinner at your grandparents?"

"My alcoholic grandmother would love you," said Justin. "You'd have to fight her off. A couple of drinks and she thinks she's Marilyn Monroe." He laughed. "Once she stood over an air conditioning vent and her dress blew up over her hips. I thought my mom would die."

Brian laughed at the image of a middle-aged woman struggling to keep her dress down a la Seven Year Itch.

Justin tugged on his arm. "Come back inside."

"In a minute." He turned and kissed the graduate lightly on the lips.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

But Brian insisted, "There's nothing wrong. I just wanted some air. And a cigarette." He pushed Justin with his shoulder. "Go on. Go back before they send out a search party."

They kissed again and then Justin returned to the house leaving Brian alone by the pool.

He sat outside in the sun, grateful for the slight breeze that arose sporadically. Debated the merits of another cigarette and was glad that he had hidden the butt from the first one before Justin came to find him. Even though Justin occasionally partook, he was always on Brian's case to quit completely, rationalizing that if Brian quit, so would he.

Although the party was going on deep inside the house, he imagined that he could hear them laughing and talking, could see their smiling faces over mixed drinks and canapes. And here he was sitting by himself and brooding. Why did he do these things? Why had he gone to the cemetery today? What possible benefit could he have derived from going there? Might as well have taken a hammer and hit himself in the head as to have gone there to find any peace of mind. Even dead, Jack Kinney continued to rail at him for his failings. He just didn't understand why he continued to try. Mikey was right, he never learned. How many times did his parents have to kick him before he figured out the best defense was to stay out of their way?

He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. Opened them and took a real look at his surroundings. The tasteful house, the pool, and the carefully manicured grounds this was where Justin grew up, a long fucking way from the side of town where his folks had settled. To have grown up somewhere like this, with parents who supported you instead of tearing you down at every opportunity... Maybe he would have been completely different-- albeit still incredibly sexy-- someone less driven, who could have paused every now and again to breathe. Someone who didn't hear his old man in his head saying, _"It should be you that's dying, not me."_ Restless, he stood and paced around the pool.

To his credit, Jack had shown up at the loft after he found out his son was gay, under the pretense of bringing him a photo of the two of them when Brian was a baby. But Brian hadn't been fooled. Jack had put up with it because he was dying. His admonishment not to tell The Warden meant that he hadn't wanted to deal with it, that it was another one of those insignificant details that could wait until he was dead.

And now that his mom did know, she hadn't surprised him by being understanding, she had fulfilled his every expectation. Angrily, he shook his head. What had he expected? That his mom had changed? He nearly laughed at the absurdity of the thought, except that if he laughed, he might not stop. Turning towards the house, he debated returning to the party. If he didn't go in soon, Justin would be back out, wondering why he hadn't come inside. He wanted to, he wanted to be able to smile and pretend that he was enjoying himself, that he was proud of Justin-- which he was-- that he wanted to be there with him-- which he did. It was just that... Being here, having his nose rubbed in all of the advantages Justin had had, reminded him just how impoverished he had been most of his life. If it hadn't been for Mikey and Deb... He swallowed and looked back at the house again. And he thought about it again: his graduation, the 'celebration' at his parents' place, and he just wanted to get out of here before he screamed. Justin would understand even if no one else did and he would forgive him. He just had to leave.

Decision made, he figured he'd better go before Justin returned. Eschewing a route through the house, he started around the side when Justin appeared in the doorway again.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to go," he said shortly, knowing it wouldn't be enough, that Justin wouldn't let him walk away with no more explanation than that.

Justin stepped through and blocked his path. "What's wrong?" When Brian turned away, "Talk to me."

"I can't."

His eyes pleaded. "Please. Don't do this. Don't go."

Brian tried not to look at him. "Justin-- I have to."

"God--" He laid a hand upon Brian's arm. "How could you...?"

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me. You didn't come to graduation--"

"You--"

"And now you're bailing on the party? I never ask you for anything..." Justin glanced away, unable to stop the tears from springing to the corner of his eyes. "Please don't go."

"I don't want to ruin your party."

"Then stay."

"I can't." Brian looked away from the tears in Justin's eyes. "I can't," he repeated as if saying it again would explain everything.

"Then I'm coming with you."

"You can't leave your party."

"Fuck the party." Afraid, he forced himself to add, "Unless you're trying to get away from me."

"No," Brian whispered and he took Justin in his arms. "I just feel like... like I'm losing it." Justin kissed him and parted from him. Extended his hand. Brian took it and held it tightly for a few seconds, then let go. "Just give me a minute. I'll be all right." He sniffled. "I can't fuck this up for you--"

"You're not."

"I... just need a minute."

Justin tugged on his arm. "We'll go upstairs. Okay?" Brian nodded and let Justin lead him up to his old room without being seen by the other guests. The teen closed the door behind them and watched, worried, as Brian sat on his bed and bowed his head. He didn't know what to do, whether to go to him or leave him alone, so he remained where he was in case Brian gave him a hint. But the man just sat there, head inclined. Finally he raised it and exhaled noisily. Taking that as his cue, Justin sat next to him and waited for Brian to speak.

"I saw my mom today."

"When?"

"I went to the cemetery and she came while I was there."

"Why'd you go there in the first place?"

"Thinking about my graduation, I guess."

Although he knew it would hurt Brian to talk about it, he had to ask. "What happened?"

"Just another disappointing chapter in the Kinney Family history," was all Brian would tell him.

"That's why you didn't want to come."

"I wanted to come. For you. And for me. Because I can't spend my entire fucking life paying for all the mistakes they've made."

Justin slid his arm around Brian's waist and leaned against him. After a moment, Brian turned and embraced him, laid his head upon his young lover's shoulder. "We don't have to go back down," Justin said as he stroked Brian's hair. "We can stay up here and fool around."

Brian laughed. "That is so junior high."

"Maybe your junior high." Justin kissed his jaw. "Come on. You know you want to."

"The last thing we need is for your mom or dad to walk in on us."

"So what? I'm legal. And as of today, I'm a college man." Justin nuzzled Brian's neck, just below the ear.

"I don't want to have to stop."

He brushed his lips over the man's Adam Apple eliciting a tiny giggle from him. "They wouldn't just walk in."

"You make far too much noise moaning."

"I thought you liked to hear me moan."

"As long as we don't have an audience."

"Since when have you cared about having an audience? Mr. Backroom at Babylon." They joined in a kiss and Justin tried futilely to get Brian to lay back on the bed so that he could blow him.

"Come on," growled Brian, pulling him to his feet. "Showing up with a boner is definitely bad form." 

 

Emmett perched on the arm of the sofa next to Ted. "So are you excited about your trip to the Bahamas?"

As if they had to ask. Justin was smiling from ear to ear. "I cannot wait."

"What trip to the Bahamas?" Craig asked and Jennifer's mouth opened slightly and then closed.

"Justin won a trip to the Bahamas," she said finally, simply. No need to tell him the entire story. Her cheeks grew warm just thinking about Justin stripping in front of a group of cheering men ogling his lithe body.

"Don't you think he's a little young to go off by himself to a foreign country?"

Justin, speaking to his dad, nevertheless looked at Brian. "I'm not going alone."

"Don't worry," Brian replied, "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Like you kept an eye on him in that parking garage?" asked Craig and everything stopped.

Michael watched as Brian debated with himself, whether he'd answer the challenge or not. Unfortunately for Craig, Brian had had enough. If there was one thing he hated, it was having his hand bitten after he'd given you what you wanted. His dad had done it often enough and it was the one thing guaranteed to piss him off.

Keeping a tight lid on his temper, Brian replied, "Where were you? He was in the fuckin' hospital for a week and a half and you showed up how many times? Once?"

"I had work."

"I had work too. And I was there every day."

"Trying to make up for nearly getting him killed in the first place!"

"Dad!" Justin felt his lover move. "Brian, wait--"

Brian stormed outside followed by Deb.

Justin turned on his father. "You had no right to say that to him. I'd be dead right now if it weren't for Brian."

"It's never enough!" he said in an anguished and angry voice. "No matter what I do, it's never good enough."

Deb touched his arm. "Yes, it is. Fuck him. What does he know?" She smiled. "Come on, let's go back in."

"No."

"Brian--"

Tell Justin I'm sorry, but I can't." He started down the sidewalk.

"Kiddo, please. Do it for him."

And Brian froze in his steps, unable to walk away.

Just then the teenager dashed from the house, with his graduation gown draped over one arm, and grabbed Brian's hand. "We're leaving." He waved to Deb. "See you tomorrow."

Brian studied Justin's face. "You sure?"

"I need you," he said. "Not some party, not my parents, not anything else-- just you."

Deb watched Brian's eyes brighten and his lips curl into a smirk. Together they fairly ran to the jeep, jumped in, and took off at light speed. And she started to laugh. As the other guests began to seep from the house, she continued to laugh, pointing down the street and shaking her head. "Ladies and gentlemen, Fuckman and the Boy Wonder have left the building."

Emmett finished off his champagne and handed the glass to a stunned Craig. "And that's a wrap. Later." 

 

Windows down, wind in their hair, they tempted fate by kissing as Brian navigated traffic. Party forgotten, parents forgotten, they laughed and kissed and fumbled at buttons and snaps in a half-assed attempt to undress before they got to the loft. Finally Brian warned, "I'm gonna kill us both if we don't stop," and Justin sat back in his seat and began to stroke himself. Brian started to breathe heavily as he stole glances at his lover masturbating. His hand crept to his own groin and soon they were both busy with their cocks, each becoming more aroused by the sight of the other's growing erection.

Brian pulled onto a side street near some abandoned warehouses, stopped the jeep, got out, pushed the front seat forward, and climbed in the back, shoving his slacks down around his ankles. Forgoing the roundabout route, Justin slipped between the front seats and straddled Brian's thighs. Hungrily, they gnawed on succulent lips as their eager hands worked Justin's pants over his hips. While Brian reached into his pocket for a condom, Justin got his pants off, his shirt open, and resumed his kneeling position. Brian spat upon his fingers and eased one inside of Justin's ass. The teen opened around the probing digit and kissed his lover with a fervor that shocked them both. A second finger joined the first and Justin moaned into Brian's mouth as his lips stretched open at Brian's insistence.

The Jeep shook as they fucked, not caring if they were discovered, too far gone to be cautious. Justin grabbed the backs of the front seats and jammed his ass down upon Brian's cock. Every now and then his head would bump against the ceiling but he didn't feel a thing, his awareness focused on the point at which they were joined. Brian, head lolling along the edge of the back seat, thrust his hips upwards, his cock enveloped in Justin's warmth. Justin's dick throbbed and, with each pulse, he tightened around Brian's cock, the cum inching up his shaft like mercury in a thermometer. Holding onto Justin's hips, Brian pressed him downwards as he began to jab his cock into the teen. With a sigh, he came, eyes shut, the relief etched on his face. Justin continued to bounce on his still hard cock, whimpering as he neared his climax. Pre-cum dotted their thighs. Finally, he squeezed his anus around the base of Brian's dick, his face screwed up in a grimace, and gave a cry. Cum flowed like lava over the head of his cock to run down the shaft and cover his balls.

They remained joined until Brian's dick began to soften. With a moan, Justin rose up and sat on the seat next to him, his bare ass kissing the leather upholstery. Brian removed the cum-filled condom from his dick and drew up his underwear and trousers. On shaky legs he got out of the back and resumed his position behind the wheel. Justin managed to pull up his pants but remained where he was. After all, they were only a few minutes away from Brian's building. 

 

Justin removed Brian's robe upon the man's return to the bedroom, sliding it over his shoulders, down his back, and off his arms. The moment the robe fell away, he embraced him from behind, spreading his fingers over Brian's ribcage, his chest, and belly. He loved touching Brian, would know him anywhere by the texture of his skin, every expanse of flesh explored and mapped, the knowledge stored in his fingertips for future reference. And Brian loved to be touched by him, never feeling as cherished as he did when Justin's hands slid down his thighs or up his side, over his buttocks, around his neck.

They sank upon the bed and Justin continued his explorations, easing Brian onto his back, and leaving a trail of warm kisses from his temples to his toes, claiming Brian's body as his possession, warning all who would venture there that this was his man. He longed to mark him, to leave the impression of his teeth or nails in his flesh, tattoo him with his love. Dizzy with desire, he bit down gently upon his inner thigh, eliciting a gasp from Brian, and licked the spot to soothe the sting. Eyes wild, appetite threatening to overcome him, he held Brian's cock upright with one hand and engulfed the head.

Brian's eyelids fluttered as the teenager devoured his dick, swollen lips sliding up and down the spit-slicked shaft, tongue inscribing signs over every inch. Giving the tip a final flick, Justin dropped back on the bed to rest for a moment. Brian knelt over his chest and ran the head of his cock over Justin's right nipple, hissing as the sensitive cap made contact with the smooth metal ring. Taking hold of Brian's shaft in one hand and his nipple ring in the other, Justin repeatedly rubbed the metal balls at the ends of the ring against Brian's pisshole until the older man pulled away, panting.

Brian turned the other way, straddled Justin's head, and raised the teen's hips and back off the bed. Justin held onto Brian's thighs as he virtually hung upside down. Dick drawn back between his legs and held up for Brian's delectation, Justin gave over to the exquisite torture of being sucked off while unable to simultaneously return the gift in kind. His ordeal was intensified by the fact that Brian's cock hovered over his face, just out of reach. But he had little time or inclination to mull over that conundrum, as all of his attention was focused on the motions of Brian's lips and tongue. Finally freeing one hand, Justin drew Brian's cock down for a series of feather-light kisses which caused the man's belly to tense. Licking the base of Justin's dick, Brian ran his tongue over his sac and whispered, "I love your fuckin' nuts," sending shivers up Justin's spine. His balls drawn into his lover's mouth, he cried out as Brian sucked them hungrily.

And then he felt Brian's tongue probing between his cheeks. Sighed and was rewarded with a long lick that encircled his hole and soaked the fine hairs around it. Brian lowered his head between his thighs and ate him out, tongue lashing the dark pink hole until Justin thought he would go crazy. Precum dripped from his cock down onto his belly and chest. Brian eased him down onto the comforter, then leaned over him and kissed him hard; he could taste his ass on his lips and tongue. "Say it," the man demanded harshly, and he whispered in surrender, "Fuck me." 

 

He guessed Brian had taken him at his word and hadn't bought him anything else for graduation. There hadn't been a present from him among the others piled on the table at his mom's house and he hadn't seen anything even remotely resembling a present in the loft. Of course, Brian could have hidden it. But from the way he was getting comfortable, it looked to Justin that he was about to go to sleep. Trying not to feel disappointed, remembering that Brian had bought him a very expensive suit and had made it possible for his dad to come to graduation, Justin told himself to get real. Most people hadn't gotten anything like that. Ever. Smiling softly, he laid his head upon Brian's chest and tried to feel grateful for all the things he did have. But still...

"Was it a good day?" Brian asked.

"The best," he replied, tightening his arm around Brian's waist.

"Well..." said Brian, "there's still something left."

He raised up. "What?"

"Go look in the top drawer over there."

Justin got up smiling and went to the chest of drawers that Brian had indicated. Slowly he opened it, his face growing brighter and brighter. And then he frowned. "It's empty."

Brian's brow creased, then straightened. "Maybe it's in the second drawer."

Justin did so and it too was empty.

"Try the third one."

"Why do you have all these empty drawers?"

Brian said casually as Justin opened the third one, "They're for you."

He turned, not believing what he had heard. "Me?"

"You can bring over some of your stuff and leave it here." Brian rolled his eyes as the teen started back towards the bed. "Look in the last drawer."

"It's not empty like the rest?"

"Check it out."

And he did. Inside was a tiny box and a card. He removed them, returned to the bed, and sat holding them in his palm.

"Well...?"

"Okay." He opened the box. Inside was a ring. A heavy gauge gold nipple ring. He took it out of its cushion.

"Look along the edge."

He looked. Etched in the metal was the phrase, a mon amour. "To my love." Then he opened the card. Read aloud the words written upon the heavy paper.

_"From my beloved's eyes there issues and flies  
a ray that burns with a light so bright   
that through mine, even when shut, it pierces my heart.   
Hence love walks with a limp,   
so unbalanced is the burden he transports,   
bringing me light, and carrying away my darkness." **_

He held the card in one hand and slowly closed his fingers over the ring in the other, his head bowed, a tear trickling down his cheek.

Brian wiped away the tear, then kissed him softly. "Happy Graduation." In an instant he had an armful of teenager as Justin embraced him, trembling ever so slightly.

"I love you," he breathed against Brian's neck and the man tightened his arms around him and just held him. 

 

She heard someone rummaging around in the garage and came out to find Brian pawing through some boxes his father had put aside with his name on them. He paused and said, "Hey," the way he wont to do, glancing up at her and then away again before they had ever made eye contact.

"I didn't think you'd want any of those old things." Arms crossed, she surveyed the scene with displeasure.

"I'm surprised you didn't have Goodwill take 'em away with the rest of the stuff."

"Your father made a special effort, put your name on them, so I thought... as long as they're in the garage and out of the way..."

He chuckled and shook his head. Continued searching for what, he wasn't sure. At that moment he just wanted to keep busy, hoping she'd go away without saying anything more.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

For a moment he thought of playing coy but there was no need, they both knew what she was talking about. "I didn't think you'd care."

"That's not true."

"You're right." He stopped what he was doing to face her. "You would have cared, just enough to yell at me, to tell me how disappointed you were in me, again, how I never did anything right, not even this, not even something simple like sex." He looked away. "And I wanted something... I wanted there to be something about my life that wasn't smeared in shit, that I didn't have to feel guilty about or have-- regrets about. I wanted there to be something you couldn't touch, you couldn't destroy for me."

"I wish you would have confided in me."

Brian was sure that was something she had heard her priest say because Joanie Kinney hadn't wanted to know anything about his life. Ever. "Mom..." He snickered. "Why? Why would I have ever confided in you? You never had time for me--"

"You never needed me," she stated.

"I needed you," he said, exasperated that she was being so willfully blind. "I just couldn't depend on you. You didn't want me around. You didn't want me." She said nothing to refute his claim and he felt something tear inside him. "I always knew. Do you know what it's like, to know that your own parents don't want you? That you were something they put up with because they had made a mistake? I felt more at home at Mikey's house than I did in my own. Because they never looked at me like I didn't belong. Like they didn't want me there."

She touched her temple briefly. "Brian, you don't understand."

"You didn't treat Claire like that. And Dad couldn't stand her. But you never made her feel like she was a leper." He opened another box, not seeing what was in it.

"We were just starting out really. And we already had Claire and times were hard. Your father was having trouble finding work that paid enough and we just weren't ready for another child. You don't understand how it is when you don't have money. Your job--"

"They didn't just hand that job over to me. I worked for it. I worked damn hard to get where I am."

"It's different when you have kids." She would use that against him until the end of time, but he still didn't think he could tell her. "They have to come first and you're always worried you won't have enough for them."

Didn't he know it? How many times had Lindsay hit him up for money for something that Gus had to have? But that was no excuse. "Deb didn't have a lot of money either and she never made Mikey feel the way you made me feel."

"It wasn't easy, being Irish in those days..."

"But it's easy being gay these days? Tell that to Justin."

"It was hard for your father." Her voice lowered a bit. "Watching you grow up, knowing you'd have opportunities that he would have given his right arm for when he was your age. Being reminded every day that his life was passing by him, that there were so many things he hadn't done, places he hadn't seen. You don't know what that's like."

But he did. Hadn't he felt the same thing about Gus? And Justin? Watching Justin become a man, a very different man from the one he had become. Feeling time rush pass him, when there was so much left to do.

"I suppose we were wrong," she said in a tone of voice that he interpreted as meaning she was tired of the issue, that they wouldn't resolve it today, if ever, and it angered him.

"And that's it? 'I suppose we were wrong.' " He closed one of the boxes and pushed it back into place, wanting to strike out at something, anything.

"That's why I wanted you to have kids."

"What?" He looked up as if he expected the world to have suddenly transformed. "Why?"

"So that you would have the chance to do all the things with your children that we never did with you. You would have been a good father."

Incredulously, he asked, "Despite the booze and the drugs, you thought I'd make a good father?"

"You were angry. I know that's why you drank so much. That's why you turned to drugs. Maybe that's why you're..."

"No." He was firm on that topic. "That's not why I'm gay. I'm gay because I like fucking guys."

Disturbed, she glanced away. "Brian..."

" Does the thought of my fucking other men bother you?"

"You don't have to be coarse."

"Yes, I do." And he fixed his eyes on her face, on her eyes, and she met his stare, held it with a little difficulty. "Because I want you to understand so that you can't lie to yourself about it. I fuck other men. And I like it. No, I love it. That's why I'm gay. Not because of something you and Jack did or didn't do but because I like fucking guys." She looked away at last, but he knew she understood. "Now, the fact that I'm a self-centered, egotistical asshole, I can lay directly at your feet," he added.

Despite herself, Joanie laughed. After a moment, so did he. "I could have killed you when you told that story after your father's funeral."

"He deserved it." Brian turned back to the box.

"He's dead now, Brian. Let him rest."

"What about us?" Looking up at her. "You're still here."

Joanie thought for a moment. "I don't want us... to keep failing one another. I don't want you telling that story after my funeral."

"So what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know." She stood looking at him, really looking at him for the first time in a long while. And she realized that she didn't know him, that she'd never really known him. She wondered what other people saw when they looked at her son. If they found him attractive, thought he was charming, smart, funny. There was so much she didn't know about him. Hadn't wanted to know. Maybe it was time to change all of that. "I was just about to have some lunch. It's not much, just a sandwich. I could fix you something. Have you eaten?" He shook his head. "Give me a couple of minutes." Before she could return inside he spoke.

"I have a child." He hadn't really thought about it, just blurted it out because something inside him said, 'Now.'

"What?"

"I have a son. With Lindsay." It was amazing how inadequate the words were to describe a miracle like Gus.

"The one who said your father told her she smelled good?"

He grinned. "Well, she's not the world's greatest storyteller."

"You and she have a child?"

"Gus. His name is Gus and he's nine months old."

"But if you're..." She paused, then pushed forward, "If you're gay, how--"

"Artificial insemination."

Embarrassed, she glanced away. "Brian..."

"How did you ever have two kids if you were that squeamish about sex?"

"We just did it, we didn't sit around talking about it."

He laughed. "Justin could take a lesson from you."

"And she doesn't mind... that you're gay and involved with..."

"Justin. It's okay. I had trouble remembering his name too. And, no, she doesn't care. Why should she? She and Melanie like Justin."

"Melanie? The dark-haired woman who came with Michael?"

"They're lesbians. They're a couple."

She raised her eyebrows. "And Michael?"

"Gay."

"The two men who came with him?"

"Emmett and Ted. Gay." He could imagine her replaying the scenes in her mind, trying to figure out if there had been some overt sign she'd missed that would have alerted her to the fact that the six of them were gay.

"And Lindsay and Melanie are raising your son?"

"They're the best parents he could possibly have," he told her and he had demonstrated his belief in them by giving up his parental rights to Mel.

"What about you?"

"I'll be around," he assured her. "In case he needs me." He had no intention of abandoning Gus like his father had abandoned him. Anyway, Lindz wouldn't let him. She had a way of showing up on his doorstep that assured Gus of seeing his Dadda-- sometimes under less than ideal circumstances.

"Did you tell your father?"

"He knew. He actually got to hold him." That had been their moment of making peace, a false peace, but one they could live with for the few weeks left to Jack.

"Will I?"

"If you ask nicely." And he smiled to let her know that he was only half-serious.

"I'd like to see my grandson." She smiled. "Please."

That had to be the first time she'd ever said 'Please' to him without it sounding exasperated or desperate. Maybe she was sincere about trying to change things between them. "I'll see what I can do."

"Well... I'll go fix those sandwiches." She paused with the open door in her hand. "I think some of your old toys are in one of those boxes. Be nice if Gus could use them."

He watched her disappear inside the house and breathed a little easier. It was a start. A beginning. 

 

Justin couldn't wait to tell his mom about Brian's gift of the empty drawers. True, he hadn't asked Justin to move in entirely but it was a start. He unlocked the front door and went inside. Maybe he'd pick up some more of his stuff from here too since he'd have more room at Deb's now that he had three whole drawers to fill at Brian's loft. Smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, he went in search of Jennifer. Found her upstairs in Molly's room, trying to organize his little sister's belongings into sensible groups. Molly was still at their grandparents' house, would be until they finally moved out of the house into the townhouse his mom had found for her and Molly-- with an extra room for him if he ever needed it.

"Hey," she said when she saw him in the doorway. "Please tell me you're here to pick up some more of your things."

"I'm here to pick up some more of my stuff." He grinned. "Brian cleared out three drawers for me at his place."

She took a break and sat down on Molly's bed. "Really?"

"And I didn't even have to ask him. It was a graduation present."

"What do you think it means?"

"Just that. Three empty drawers." And he meant it too. With Brian, it never paid to assume. Anything.

"Well, I'm glad for you." Jennifer plucked at the comforter and prepared to get back to work.

"You think I can go for a swim?"

"Don't see why not. Your dad's been out here like clockwork making sure everything's taken care of." She continued before he could walk away, "I know you think he was wrong to say those things to Brian-- and he was. But, honey, I felt the same way."

"But you don't anymore."

"And he won't either."

Justin disagreed. "He's not like you."

"I had to start all over, getting to know you again. He has to do the same thing."

"But he doesn't want to know me. He just wants me to stay quiet and out of the way."

"He loves you."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does. He just doesn't like you very much right now." Knowing she had hurt him, she refused to lie. "You have to be patient with him."

"After you move, I probably won't ever see him again. I know he won't bother to try and find me."

"Then you have to find him. Don't make it easy for him to walk away from you." She smiled. "Like you did with Brian."

He laughed. "He used to call me his stalker."

Frowning, she laughed too, just imagining what else Brian had probably called him. "Go swimming." 

 

Watching Justin swim just below the surface, Craig was struck by how graceful he was, yet strong and supple. Justin emerged from below and shook his head, spotted his dad seated on the chaise lounge and swam over to him, stood close to the edge, the water coming just to his waist.

"Hey."

"Hi." Like all the other times they had spoken since Jennifer's announcement that Justin was gay, Craig found himself at a loss for words. He supposed he should say something about yesterday, about the blow-up at the party, but he didn't feel he owed anyone any explanation. As far as he was concerned, Justin's relationship with Brian was without a doubt the reason why that Hobbs kid had gone after him. On his own, Justin wouldn't have been so militant about his homosexuality, with Brian and his friends egging him on he felt he could take on the world. Well, he'd found out the hard way that he couldn't. Not without casualties.

Justin decided to come out of the pool. Heaving himself up, he sat on the edge with his legs having over the edge. Tired of waiting for Craig to bring it up, he did so himself. "Brian isn't to blame for what happened to me. Chris Hobbs is."

"He was provoked."

He turned to look at his dad. "By what? By another student having fun at the prom?"

Craig tried to keep his voice down. "You were dancing with another man."

"Because I'm gay, Dad." Justin looked into his father's eyes. "Why shouldn't I have been dancing with Brian? I love him. And he loves me. We should be able to dance whenever and wherever we want."

"So you can get hit in the head again with another baseball bat."

"Why?"

Craig shook his head, not wanting to take the bait, but he did. "Justin, you know what the world is like."

"What does that mean? That I should just take it? Not stand up for myself, pretend that everything's okay when someone spits in my face?"

Speaking firmly, Craig replied, "You don't have to push so hard."

Justin remembered the first time Chris Hobbs had come after him, the way he had fought back. What if he hadn't? What if he'd have just taken it? What if he hadn't challenged Chris Hobbs outside of Woody's? Maybe that person wouldn't have pursued Brian so vehemently, wouldn't have insisted that the man make a place for him in his life. Maybe that Justin wouldn't have been attacked in the parking garage because Brian wouldn't have come to the prom. He had said it in Babylon, in response to Justin's statement about having turned into a big queer: _"Yeah, lucky for you, otherwise I wouldn't be wasting my time."_ There was his answer. "Yes, I do," he replied. "I'm sorry if that makes you hate me--"

"I don't hate you," Craig said softly. How had it come to this? That his son thought his own father hated him? "I just don't understand."

"Understand what, Dad?"

Not looking at Justin, Craig answered, "I don't understand why."

"Why I'm gay?" ventured Justin, and his dad nodded. "I don't know why. I just know that I am. And it's not gonna change. I'm not going to wake up one day and not be gay."

Fair enough, maybe that was too much to hope for, but maybe he could do something about Brian. "Then why him? Why this man?"

Justin smiled, seeing again the three empty drawers in Brian's bedroom, the engraved nipple ring, the cowry shell necklace he'd gotten for his birthday, the osiana roses that had held court on the dining table; remembering them eating jambalaya during their first dinner together, that first time when Brian had said, _"Now relax…"_ How could he explain that it was for these reasons and a thousand more than he loved Brian, despite the arguments, the misunderstandings, and the tears? "Because," he said at last, "you were at my graduation ceremony and he wasn't."

Craig recalled the brief phone call, hearing the man say simply, _"It's a deal. Be there on Saturday and I won't. You have my word."_ And he had kept it. Not that Craig had expected him to, but he had. Craig didn't think he could have done so, if their situations had been reversed. "Fair enough," he said and no more. Stood and looked one last time at the pool, at his son sitting along the edge. "You have my number at work?"

"Yeah, Dad," Justin assured him.

"Call me sometime."

"Okay."

With that, Craig left.

His eyes on his father's back until it rounded the corner of the house and moved out of sight, a wisp of a smile played about Justin's lips. Pushing off from the edge, he dropped back down into the water and made for the deep end. 

 

The Tonka truck rolled across the white rug in the livingroom leaving no trails as Brian had washed the wheels assiduously in the kitchen sink. Justin laughed. "I cannot believe you had a Tonka truck."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"It's so... butch."

"And I'm not?" At the moment Brian was wearing his black silk robe and nothing else, his hair standing up in spikes from their early evening 'nap'.

Glimpsing Brian's shoulders and chest, the play of muscles beneath skin whenever Brian moved and the robe gaped open, Justin reconsidered his choice of words. "It's so hetero."

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "All the little breeders-in-training on my street had one." He smiled. "I probably drove my dad crazy begging for it. It was like the fuckin' Holy Grail."

"Gus is gonna love it. When he's older."

Brian pushed it forward, the dump body filled with condoms. As it neared Justin's knee, he turned it around and unloaded the condoms in front of him.

"For me?"

"As many as you'd like. I have a supply."

Selecting a flavored one from the pile, Justin asked, "Do you build things too, or do you just drive the truck?"

"Why?" asked Brian, a smile curling about his lips.

Justin untied his robe and let it fall open. "I need something erected."

Pushing the truck aside, Brian crawled over and kissed his belly. "Lucky for you, we provide service from top to bottom." 

 

In the middle of the night, while Justin slept, he got up and went into the livingroom, sat on the floor by the sofa, and pushed the dump truck to and fro on the white rug. And he saw:

_Himself as a little boy, opening the present his dad had handed to him, having brought it out of hiding._

_His dad smiling as he played in the back, emptying load after load of dirt, his mom yelling at him not to destroy the entire yard._

_Falling asleep that night, the Tonka truck on top of his footlocker, dirt encrusted on the wheels, a load of rocks in the dump box awaiting further work tomorrow._

 

**Poetry: "Madrigal" by Michelangelo from The Poetry of Michelangelo an annotated translation by James M. Saslow, Yale University Press, 1991.


	6. Spin Me Sunshine and Make Me Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin on their dream vacation in the Bahamas. Fun fun fun!

Despite having three drawers of stuff at Brian's apartment, Justin still found himself back in his old room at Deb's on a regular basis picking up fresh supplies or actually sleeping there on the days Brian seemed to need some space. It wasn't that the man said anything to him or behaved any differently per se, just that the teenager figured every few days or so it was probably a good idea to give him a break. As Brian had told him on many occasions, he wasn't a handful--he was two. Plus, even though he would not have thought it possible, he found himself needing a break from Brian. Besides, it made coming back that much better and he could tell that Brian had missed him. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

He rummaged through his clean clothes basket trying to find his orange jersey with the number 23 on it. He hadn't been able to find it at Brian's for three days. Figured it must have still been at Deb's but he wasn't having any luck there either. He hoped it hadn't gotten lost, mixed up in Brian's stuff that the maid took to the cleaners. He still felt a little weird about having a stranger do things like that but Brian swore he was "through with that shit" and refused to even look at a washing machine even though his building had laundry facilities. And when Justin offered to do it himself, he was told in no uncertain terms to drop it. So now one of his favorite shirts was missing. If it was lost for good Brian was going to have to do some major hustling to make it up to him.

Cursing out loud, he stomped downstairs ready to bitch at Brian who sat at the table killing time with Vic and Deb.

"You find it?" he asked.

"No," Justin replied, his tone implying that the question was retarded since he obviously didn't have it in his hands.

Brian raised an eyebrow, cognizant of all the implications, and wisely made no further comment. The teen dropped into the free chair at the table, his body language clearly communicating his disgust. The adults tried to contain their amusement and Brian refused to meet anyone's eye for fear of bursting out laughing which would not have been a smart move given Justin's current disposition.

"Oh," Deb exclaimed suddenly, "you got mail. I think it's about your trip." She got up and retrieved a letter from the pile. Tossed it on the table in front of him. It had the Babylon logo on front of the envelope.

Justin tore it open and commented bitterly, "Probably telling me they've taken the prize back cause they don't want a brain-damaged King."

"Just read it and quit bitching," ordered Brian. "Christ, it's just one shirt."

Giving Brian the evil eye, Justin unfolded the letter and read it out loud. "Dear Justin, in response to your unfortunate attack, several generous benefactors from the gay community have contributed additional funds to your prize package, making it possible for us to arrange for an upgrade in your accommodations at the Baja Mar Majestic Bahamian Resort and to increase the amount of your prize money to $1500. Enclosed is a brochure for the resort, confirmation of your reservations, and traveler's checks in $10, $20, and $50 denominations. Please enjoy your trip and we expect many fabulous pictures." His face lit up. "Can you believe that?"

"Considering what you've been through," said Vic, "you deserve a lot more."

"Here here," agreed Deb."

Brian smiled and suggested, "Now how about you go back up and look for your shirt one more time? It's not at my place so it has to be here."

"But I've looked already," complained Justin.

"Well, I guess you can write it off then," he said nonchalantly.

"Fine." Justin stood. "It's intense about the trip, huh?"

"Totally," Brian replied in his Valley Girl accent.

Sticking out his tongue, the teenager ran back upstairs for round two of Treasure Hunt.

After he'd gone, Deb stared at Brian with a knowing look in her eye. "All right. What gives?"

"What?"

"You arranged for that extra money, didn't you?"

"I approached some possible contributors," he confessed, then amended that. "Actually one contributor approached me. Dr. Dave. He called, said he wanted to do something so I suggested he sweeten the prize pot."

"And how much of your own money is in the pot?" Vic asked.

He started to answer, then changed his mind. "It doesn't matter."

"Does he know how much you love him?" asked Deb, pleased to see how disconcerted her question made him: he actually blushed.

Regaining his composure, he stated, "I only travel first-class," as if that explained everything.

"Uh-huh," she said, winking at Vic. They both laughed.

Disgusted, Brian got up and went to help the Boy Wonder look for his fucking shirt. 

 

Intercepting Justin's hand just as it was about to slip down into his briefs, Brian held him in a firm grip. "No."

"No?"

He shook his head to emphasize the point. "I'm tired." Hoping Justin had gotten the picture, he released him.

Begrudgingly, the teen made no further attempts on his virtue. Only slipped an arm around his lover's waist and laid his head upon his chest. To go to sleep Brian hoped. But, of course, Justin wasn't tired at all.

"Are you excited about the trip?" he asked.

"Yeah," replied Brian, closing his eyes and preparing himself for another half hour of talk.

"That suite is incredible. I still can't believe it."

"It's the best."

Justin stroked an area of skin just over Brian's ribs, not in a sensual way but almost in the way some children held onto their parent's hands: for comfort. "A whole week. Just you and me. Away from Pittsburgh."

At that Brian smiled. He was looking forward to the trip. With as many opportunities to go away with some guy as he'd been presented over the years, he'd never taken advantage of them, reckoning correctly that he didn't have the patience or stamina to put up with some schmuck for an entire weekend let alone an entire week. Chet had pestered him to go away with him but he'd put him off until they'd argued and that was the end of that brief affair. He chuckled. Fuckman and the Boy Wonder alone together for a week in a tropical paradise.

Justin looked up at him. "What's so funny?"

"Something Deb said," he replied.

"Guess what?" Justin asked excitedly not bothering to find out what Deb had said.

"What?"

"My mom said she'd buy me a some new clothes to take to the Bahamas. We're going shopping this Saturday. You wanna come?"

"You, your mom, and me? Shopping?" He snickered. "And then what? High tea at the Country Club?"

Justin tickled Brian causing him to snort in laughter. "She's cool."

"Now. But I remember a certain someone running to my place, hiding out from his big, bad mommy like a scared, little boy," Brian reminded him.

"Shut up," he said pinching Brian's tit. The man yelped and rubbed his sore nipple. Justin instantly regretted his actions and kissed it. Then begged, "Come on. Come with us. It'll be nice."

"I'm not nice," Brian replied.

"Yes, you are. You just don't want anyone to know. Afraid it'll ruin your reputation." He kissed Brian's chest. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone," he said, giving Brian back his words in the hotel room in New York.

Brian pursed his lips. "I'll think about it. I'm not making any promises."

But Justin raised up and kissed him anyway. "I love you."

"You'd better, all the shit I put up with for you."

Justin straddled his waist. "How about I show you just how grateful I am?"

Groaning, Brian replied, "Justin, I'm bushed."

He kissed the ad exec's throat, right in the hollow, and made his way across his breastbone. "I promise you'll feel much better when we're done."

Wrapping his arms around Justin and rolling them over, Brian whispered, "Christ, you're killing me..." 

 

Only Justin had taken pity on him and had let him go to sleep after a few minutes of heavy petting, both of them slightly aroused, lovemaking postponed until morning. Which was why he was standing in the middle of fucking Old Navy while Justin tried on another pair of shorts. That were way too long in his opinion. Maybe this called for a trip to his tailor. And then Justin came out wearing a pair of khaki hiking shorts. Jennifer eyed him carefully.

"I don't know, honey... I think those are too small." She turned to Brian. "Don't you think those are too small?"

Brian didn't hear a word she said, he was too busy checking out Justin's ass, which was looking particularly tasty in those shorts. The teen realized what he was doing and flexed his cheeks which sent a pulse through Brian's cock.

"Brian?" repeated Jennifer. "Brian?"

He finally heard her. "Hmm?"

"Don't you think those shorts are too small?"

"Actually, I..." He licked his lips, trying not to imagine Justin in the loft, with the shorts halfway down his legs. "I think those... are good." He nodded. "Those look fine to me."

Looking from Brian to the object of his attention, she surrendered. "I suppose it is going to be pretty hot down there..."

Brian agreed. "An inferno." He gave Justin a little push. "Go change. I think this calls for Speedo's." 

 

Jennifer took one look at Justin wearing those golden running shorts, slit up the side with about a four-inch inseam, and she was having none of it. "Absolutely--"

"Perfect," finished Brian. "They're perfect. I think you should get the red ones too." As Jennifer readied herself to object again, he handed Justin two pairs of swimming briefs that he had found while the teen had been changing. "Try these."

Justin held up one of the swimsuits, it was a sapphire thong.

Before he could say anything, Jennifer freaked. "Ah... no. Put those back."

"But, Mom--"

"No," she said firmly.

"But, Jennifer--" pleaded Brian.

"No." She refused to even talk about it any further. Taking the thong from Justin, she left to return it to its rack.

When Justin's mom had gone out of hearing, Brian said grinning, "Wait 'til you see what I really got you."

Justin whispered back, "What?"

"It's a surprise." He slipped his hand beneath the leg of the running shorts Justin had on and cupped his buttock. "Least the thong took her mind off of these."

Smiling brightly, Justin pulled Brian into the dressing room and kissed him. "You're devious."

Out of the corner of his eye, Brian spotted Jennifer returning with a baggy pair of swim shorts and nearly laughed. She'd have a heart attack if she saw the trunks he'd bought online for himself and Justin. Well, they'd just have to remember not to take any incriminating pictures while they were wearing them. Not that they'd be wearing them for very long... 

 

"You all packed?" Lindsay asked as they strolled through the park, she pushing the empty stroller and Brian carrying Gus in his arms.

"Almost," he answered. "I'm trying to walk a fine line between tastefulness and nakedness."

"Which is winning, as if I didn't know?"

"Nakedness, of course."

She laughed. "You're planning to spend a lot of time in your room, right?"

Grinning, he raised his eyebrows. "Not a bad plan."

Bumping him with her hip, she smiled. "I'm proud of you."

"For what?"

"For doing this."

He looked confused. "For going on vacation?"

Not buying his innocent act for a moment, she replied, "For going with Justin."

"Well, the tickets and reservations are in his name," he pointed out to her.

"I'm serious."

"Can we not talk this to death?"

Lindsay smirked. "You're embarrassed."

Showing Gus a bird, he ignored her at first and then he asked, "Embarrassed by what?"

"By the fact that you're actually looking forward to going away with him."

Brian refused to concede the point. Talked to the baby instead. "Did I give you the number to my hotel, Gus?"

"You did," she said, thinking, How sweet but she continued to smirk. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't have a romantic bone in your body."

Giving a long suffering sigh, Brian babbled to Gus in an attempt to tune her out. "So what do you want Dadda to bring you back from the Bahamas? Huh?"

"How about Justin in one piece?"

"Justin?" He frowned. "Why wouldn't he be in one piece?"

Her mouth opened and closed and then she said, "You do have a temper, Brian."

"I'm not gonna kill him."

"Just... think before you speak. And remember, he's only eighteen."

"I know how old he is," he snapped.

"See? You're angry already."

He took a breath and cocked his head. "No. I'm not." Chewed on his gum. "So. Is there gonna be some lame-ass going away party for us?"

"Yes."

"I told you I didn't want one."

"What about Justin?"

"He can go."

She took hold of his arm and looked him hard in the eyes. "You'd better show up. Or else."

In the mood for a challenge, he asked, "Or else what?"

"Or else I tell Mel about the poem you gave to Justin."

Eyes narrowing, he frowned. "Bitch."

She covered Gus' ears. "Little pitchers"

Grinning, he mouthed, "Bitch."

Gus looked at Lindsay and then up at his Dadda and gurgled. Brian laughed, "Exactly," switched arms, and they continued on their way. 

 

Justin could hardly close his eyes, he was so excited about their trip tomorrow. He sat up in bed, careful not to wake Brian, and wrote in his journal. " _Tomorrow Brian and I leave on our trip to the Bahamas. I can't wait. We're going to have so much fun, I just know it. The guys threw us a going away party and afterwards we came home and made love and then Brian fell asleep. He's been really tired lately. I hope he gets some rest on our vacation. Except that there are so many things to do. I guess if we don't do everything, that's okay too. But I do want to go snorkeling and sightseeing and maybe parasailing but I don't know if Brian'll let me. He's been really protective of me since the attack. It's kind of sweet. But he can't protect me from everything. I was more afraid of going to see Cam than I am of going parasailing. Anyway, if I don't go, it won't be the end of the world. As long as I'm with him, I don't care about anything else. I'd better go soon before he wakes up. Next time I write in here, I'll be in the Bahamas!"_ Closing his journal, he switched off the bedside lamp and got under the covers.

Now that the light was off, Brian figured he'd be able to sleep too. Tomorrow was a big day. Him and Justin, alone for seven days and six nights. The bed shifted as Justin snuggled up to his back and slipped his arm around his waist. Justin didn't seem comfortable in bed unless he was touching Brian and he indulged him. Truthfully, it relaxed him too. Mentally going over the list of things he'd had to attend to before going away, he checked each of them off in his mind. Everything looked to be in order. All he had to do was sleep. So he closed his eyes and slept. 

 

Michael dropped them off at the airport before work, giving them each a big hug and making them promise to pick him up any unique Bahamian comics or graphic novels if they saw any. As if they would bother to look.

The plane left on time and as soon as it lifted off from the tarmac, they felt their last ties to Pittsburgh dissolve. They were headed for a completely new place where entirely new adventures awaited them.

Brian declined coffee but knocked back a glass of orange juice and requested seconds. He had a feeling he'd be needing all of his systems operating at peak condition for this trip. Glancing over at Justin he became aware of the hungry look in his eyes. He was definitely going to need all of his strength.

"What do you think we should do first when we get there?" asked Justin.

"Whatever the King decrees," Brian replied.

Grinning devilishly, the teenaged King of Babylon thought about it, then leaned over and whispered into his subject's ear. Brian laughed and pushed him away gently. "You said whatever I decreed."

"If the body's willing," Brian reminded him. "Which, at this point, I'm not so sure about."

"Come on, old man," teased Justin, tugging on his arm. "I bet you can still get it up for your little boy," he whispered.

Not answering him, Brian turned and took his glass of orange juice from the attendant and drank it in silence, a mysterious little smile appearing on his face.

Satisfied Justin closed his eyes and daydreamed about their suite with its huge mahogany four-poster bed.

Over the course of their flight they flipped through the brochures the hotel had sent them and tried to sketch out a rough, very rough itinerary. "So we can spend one day on the private island, and one day in the city, and maybe go over to Freeport one day..." Justin turned to Brian. "You sure you're up to tourists and tourists' kids?"

"No kids allowed at the resort."

"But they'll be in the city and everywhere else."

"I promise to be on my best behavior." He placed one hand over his heart.

"That's no fun," Justin pouted.

"Outside of our room. Inside our room, all bets are off."

"Promise?"

Brian took his hand and squeezed it once. "I packed a few toys," he said mischievously.

Justin laughed. "God, I hope they didn't open your suitcase."

Leaning in, Brian whispered, "Me too. There's an eighteen-inch double dong in there."

Face flushed, Justin looked out of the window and tried not to think about the dildo or its purpose. Next to him, Brian snickered.

Although the flight was only three hours with a brief layover in Atlanta, Justin got sleepy. Of course, he hadn't slept very much the night before. So he pillowed his head on Brian's shoulder and took a nap. While Brian read _Advertising Age_. He'd promised Justin no work but he was bored and he'd already read Vogue cover to cover--as if anyone could be said to actually read Vogue. As he leafed through an article on marketing on the web, he noticed that the couple across the aisle kept glancing over at him and Justin. Probably at the way the teen was curled against his side. Putting on his best Madison Avenue smile, he asked, "Would you like to see this?" indicating the magazine in his hand. Flustered, they demurred and after that he noticed they kept their disapproving eyes to themselves. Assholes. Still, he thought he'd handled that quite well. Maybe he'd tell Justin, it ought to be worth a couple of long, lingering kisses.

They had both dozed off by the time they got within sight of the islands. The attendant shook them awake, Justin having secured her promise that she would if they were still asleep when they reached their destination. Thanking her, he raised the window shade and Brian leaned over. "It's beautiful," the teen remarked in awe, eyes fixed on the multi-hued blue water and the first green and white glimpses of land.

Brian kissed his jaw. "So are you." Looking around at his lover, the Boy Wonder smiled, his blue eyes sparkling brighter than the ocean below them. "You're missing it," Brian reminded him.

"Missing what?"

"The view."

And Justin shook his head. All the view he wanted was right in front of him: hazel-eyed and red-lipped. Their mouths touched briefly and they stayed close for a moment, foreheads pressed together. 

 

As they neared the luggage carrels Justin spotted a man in chauffeur's livery holding a sign with his name on it. He walked over and said excitedly, "I'm Justin Taylor."

From where he stood Brian could see the man's expression change ever so slightly but, to give him his due, Justin probably never noticed it, the man was such a professional. He heard him say, "I'll show you to the car and if you'll describe your luggage and give me the claim tickets, I'll retrieve your bags and we can be on our way, sir."

Justin waved Brian over and they followed the man to the cream-colored Rolls Royce parked outside. The chauffeur took their luggage claim tickets, descriptions committed to a note pad, and went to grab their stuff, leaving them alone in the car.

Craning his neck, Justin took in everything even though they were only in the airport. Sitting back, Brian decided to steal all the down time he could. He smiled, remembering how pissed he'd been when the MC at the King of Babylon contest announced the next contestant and he'd heard her say, "Justy." Before he had even looked up, he'd known it was Justin. He had been pissed off even more when he'd realized the trick he'd been attempting to pick up was more interested in watching Justin dance than in making out with him. Of course, it'd been impossible for him not to watch the teen either. His limber, lithe, strong body gyrating on stage, swinging around that pole... Then there was everything that had happened afterwards. God, when he'd gone downstairs to the backroom and seen Justin with that guy, he'd felt like his entire world had begun to fall apart. But they had reconciled, the way they had always done. And now they were enjoying the fruits of that episode. He smiled again and this time Justin noticed and smiled back. Moved closer to him and took hold of his hand. By the time the chauffeur returned, they were wild-eyed and slightly out of breath.

On the way to the resort, the chauffeur tried to make up for his initial blunder by asking them if they had ever been to the Bahamas before, and how long they were staying, and giving them tips about what to see and do. Brian thought the guy had probably been won over by Justin's infectious good-naturedness. It was hard to resist for long. He ought to know, he'd resisted it longer than most. And now he didn't know why. Despite everything, all the problems they'd had, would continue to have, nothing seemed serious enough to keep them apart, not when he could wake up to that smile, to those eyes that promised him everything, that trusted him, loved him. He glanced out of the window, a little misty, and Justin shifted his attention to him. Turning back towards the teen, he smiled to let him know everything was okay. It never failed to amaze him, how in tune Justin was to his mercurial moods. Satisfied that Brian was all right, Justin asked the driver about visiting the other islands, his hand resting lightly on Brian's thigh. After a moment, Brian laid his hand upon Justin's and listened to the driver's advice as to which of the other islands were worth visiting--all of them--and what they had to offer.

They alit from the car beneath the grand entranceway and stared around in amazement. Brian laughed and pointed to the copy of Michelangelo's David nestled in between the shrubbery. "This is definitely the place for you," he told Justin.

There was a tense moment at the check-in desk when Justin was asked to produce a photo ID to prove he was eighteen. Of course, at first they assumed that Brian was Justin even though he hadn't said anything, preferring to let Justin handle it since it was his prize trip after all. Then, once the mistaken identity issue was cleared up, they requested proof of age. Aware that Brian's patience was running thin, Justin quickly produced his driver's license. Satisfied, the clerk completed the check-in procedures and handed Justin two electronic card keys. They returned to the car and the chauffeur drove them over to the Morgan Tower where their suite was located. There, the driver turned them over to the concierge who arranged for a bellhop to carry their luggage upstairs to their sixth floor suite.

Justin unlocked the door and held it open for the bellhop who looked slightly scandalized. As the man carried their bags to the bedroom, Justin asked, "What?"

"You were supposed to let him open the door for us."

"But he had all of our bags."

Brian kissed him on the head and waited for the bellhop to return and guide them through the suite's features as if they couldn't discover that on their own. There was a marble-top mini bar which was restocked everyday, fresh flowers on the coffee table in the living room, a 200 square feet balcony with table and chairs and chaise lounges overlooking the pool area with a view of the ocean; the bedroom boasted a king-sized mahogany four-poster bed, a twenty-seven inch television with VCR; in a bucket next to the bed was a complimentary bottle of champagne, and there was a mirrored dressing table off in the corner; the bathroom contained a sunken Roman-style tub, had Italian marble tile floors, a two-sink mirrored vanity, complimentary hotel bathrobes and toiletries, plush cotton towels, and a glass-walled shower big enough for two. At the end of Ray's spiel, they bid him farewell and waited patiently for him to leave. As soon as the door closed, they fell into one another's arms. Justin wanted Brian so badly at that moment he thought he'd explode if they didn't make love soon. And then there came a discreet knock on the door.

"Shit," exclaimed Brian, one hand poised to unzip Justin's cargo pants, the other cupping the teen's right breast, thumb brushing over his nipple ring. They parted and tried to restore some semblance of order to their appearance before Brian went to see who had disturbed them. Opening the door rather quickly, he asked a bit abruptly of the stranger who stood across the threshold, "Yes?"

"I'm Henry, sir," the startled man announced. "I'll be one of your personal butlers during your stay with us. I work the day shift from seven until three, Colin works from three to eleven, and Marcus is here from eleven to seven."

Having calmed down, Brian said graciously, "Good to meet you."

"If you ever need us, just dial '7' on the telephone. Is there anything I can get you now, sir?"

Aware that Justin had vanished into the bedroom during their brief exchange, he responded, "No. Thanks. Maybe in an hour."

"Well, enjoy your vacation, sir."

"We will." Brian smiled and waited for Henry to turn away before firmly shutting the door. Then he opened it again and for good measure hung the 'Do not disturb' sign on the handle before practically running to the bedroom where Justin lay naked on the bed. Good boy. As Brian climbed onto the bed, he rose and helped him to undress in record time.

Justin voiced as sigh as Brian entered him and immediately started moaning when his lover began to slowly move in and out of him. He hadn't believed that Brian could control his movements to such a degree given the aroused state they'd both been in but, as always, the man managed to surprise him with his skillful lovemaking. He went about loving Justin leisurely, thoroughly, stoking the fire that burned inside them until they both felt as if they were making love inside a furnace. Perspiration dripped off of their bodies, skin sliding against skin, the sweat and lube making a slippery glove of Justin's asshole, one that grabbed at Brian's cock each time it began to withdraw.

"Brian, Brian..." Justin whispered into his neck as Brian twisted his head to catch his breath.

"What, baby?"

"Stay in me." His lover's cock was lodged right up against his prostate and he could feel a shout developing in his belly, if only Brian wouldn't pull out, would only keep pushing right there.

Brian kissed him hungrily and began to slam against him, thrusting hard into his hole, against his prostate, and Justin clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to scream, but it felt so good and he... he couldn't keep it in, he couldn't hold it back. At the last possible moment, Brian clamped his mouth over Justin's and the teen shouted down his throat as cum erupted from his cock to flood the plane of his belly. Justin's hole palpitating his cock from top to bottom, Brian moaned and shot his load, his buttocks flexing as he continued to drive his dick into his lover's trembling depths.

After a quick shower, Justin slipped on one of the hotel's complimentary robes while Brian opted for his black silk one and they curled up on the sofa, looking through the archway past the balcony at the blue blue water surrounding them. They could see a couple of sailboats out in the harbor and could hear people splashing in the pool below, although the sound was a distant hum. Justin warm in his arms, Brian rested his chin on top of his head and asked, "You want to go down for lunch or have it sent up here?"

"Up here," he replied quietly.

"You okay?"

"I just wanna be with you." He turned and they kissed.

Parting from the teen, Brian wondered aloud where the butler might have put the restaurant menus.

"I bet we can order anything we want," Justin said and Brian silently agreed, mentally grumbling that at these prices they ought to be able to have lobster morning, noon, and night. But then he saw Justin's face, how relaxed and happy he seemed to be, and he couldn't begrudge the hotel the money he had contributed to their trip.

"See if the menus are in the writing desk," he suggested. Justin checked it out. Held them up triumphantly. He returned to the sofa and they flipped through them trying to find something they wanted. Finally Justin decided on a roasted chicken sandwich and Brian chose the grilled mahi mahi with fresh vegetables.

Justin dialed '7' and put in their order with Henry, then rejoined Brian on the sofa. "I guess we should get dressed."

Nibbling on his earlobe, Brian paused. "What for?"

"He'll be here in half an hour he said."

"So? We've both got on robes and I promise not to flash my dick at him." He reached inside Justin's robe and stroked his thigh. "Isn't this much better than clothes?"

As Brian's nimble fingers kneaded the flesh of his inner thighs, Justin had to admit that he didn't give a fuck who was coming up or when, just as long as Brian kept doing what he was doing.

By the time Henry arrived they had both forgotten about lunch and were half out of their robes. Drawing them close again, Justin went to let the butler in with their order while Brian cleared a spot on the coffee table for their food. If Henry noticed the front of their robes tenting over their erections, he didn't give a hint of it. Placing the trays on the coffee table, he wished them a good meal and departed.

Purposely ignoring Justin's attempts to pick up where they had been interrupted, Brian turned his attention to the mahi mahi. Pouting a little, Justin settled for his company while they ate.

"So what's on the agenda for this afternoon?" Brian asked.

"Maybe we can just stay up here," Justin suggested and Brian put down his fork, a chunk of fish still speared upon it.

"What's wrong?" he asked and the teen shrugged. "Spit it out."

"I just feel like they're all staring at us," he confessed.

"I keep telling people not to hate us cause we're beautiful," Brian joked.

"They hate us because we're gay and I'm a kid," said Justin quietly.

Brian took the boy in his arms and held him in a firm but tender grip. "Look at us. Look at all the shit we've had to take from family and friends, from people we know and have to see every day. These people, we don't ever have to see again once we leave here. And if I don't give a fuck what everybody back home in Pittsburgh thinks about us, you really think I give a shit what strangers are saying about us behind our backs?" He smiled. "We deserve this trip and we're going to have a fabulous time. Plus, we are going to look so hot, they're all gonna want us: men, women, gay, straight, bi... it won't matter... they're all going to wish they were with us. But it's too fuckin' bad because there's only room in this suite for two people: you and me." He kissed Justin and picked up his fork again. "So what are we doing this afternoon?"

"I wanna go swimming," Justin replied, taking a big bite out of his sandwich.

"You go swimming, I'll lay out on the beach." And he wondered to himself if they had nude sunbathing and if Justin would let him even if they did. 

 

An hour later they headed for a relatively empty stretch of beach where they spotted two chairs with a beach umbrella between them. Justin followed Brian musing to himself that the ad exec was the only man he'd ever known who actually wore a cover-up. A black fishnet jacket that fell just to the bottom edge of his swimsuit making his lengthy legs seem even longer. True to his prediction, both men and women watched his progress and far from being derisive, their eyes registered only envy and desire. But Brian didn't notice. Black sunglasses covering his eyes, he adjusted the beach umbrella against the glare of the sun and dropped off his cover-up. Retrieved the bottle of sunscreen from their bag and proceeded to slather it on. Handed Justin the bottle to do his back, after which he motioned for Justin to take off his tee-shirt and he did his back, letting the teen do the rest. Justin dropped into his chair as well and waited for the sunscreen to dry before going into the water.

"You sure you won't come in with me?" he asked when he was ready.

Brian lifted his sunglasses briefly. "See you later."

Looking back one last time at Brian's long, lean body stretched out in the lounger, Justin waved. Brian waved back and then shooed him on. The teen paused at the water's edge, slid his goggles down over his eyes, took a deep breath, and ran in. He was one of those people who believed it was better to get it over with all at once rather than dipping in a toe and waiting and then gradually immersing yourself.

From the shore, Brian smirked and shook his head. Justin never did anything tentatively. He guessed they were alike in that regard.

As he sliced through the water, Justin thought about how great it was going to be to go snorkeling later in the trip. The water was so clear. Even without the gear, he was able to stay under long enough to catch glimpses of curious fish. Maybe they could take the hotel diving course and go diving too. You could only go down thirty feet but that was enough to see some great wrecks and the coral reefs. He hoped he could talk Brian into it. He couldn't believe how relaxed Brian seemed to be. And he hadn't gotten snippy all day, which was a minor miracle. His mom wouldn't believe it--hell, none of the gang would believe it. He'd always said that Brian was a different person when he was with him.

Surfacing again, he made his way back to the shore and was distracted by the people parasailing from a boat a little further out. Bobbing in the waves, he watched as one guy lifted from the platform, canopy opened above him, and he knew he had to find some way to convince Brian to let him try. Thinking of Brian, he figured he'd better check to see if he was okay and to see if he needed to get rid of any dead bodies in his vicinity. He found his lover lightly dozing in his chair, an open bottle of water held loosely in his hand, cradled between his thighs. As soon as Justin neared him, he opened his eyes and lifted his sunglasses. "Done already?"

"For now." He sat and grabbed a cold bottle from the bag. Draining it, he leaned back in his chair and squinted at the parasailors.

"Where are your sunglasses?"

"I don't have any," Justin replied.

"You'll get wrinkles like that," pronounced Brian. "We'll stop by the gift shop."

Taking the plunge, Justin pointed to the people parasailing and asked, "Doesn't that look like fun?"

"Sure." Justin smiled. "If you find the idea of suicide to be fun." His smile faded. "Don't even think about it."

"But--"

"But nothing. Your mom said nothing dangerous."

"It's not dangerous. Those guys are probably drunk and they're doing it."

"Oh, there's a ringing endorsement." He lowered his sunglasses, conversation over.

"Spoilsport," bitched Justin, folding his arms angrily over his chest.

"Remember what I said about Europe?"

"No."

"If we both make it back home with no major injuries..."

Justin's mouth fell open. "That's blackmail. Besides, I thought you meant--Ooo." He frowned, then stuck out his tongue.

"How juvenile. And when did we graduate from high school?"

This we graduated three weeks ago. That we--"

"Watch it, little boy," Brian warned. Justin crossed his eyes and pouted. "The answer's still no. "

"I'm going back in," Justin announced suddenly.

"Bye," said Brian. "Watch out for sharks."

As he stomped down to the water, Justin began to grin. He'd convince Brian to let him go parasailing. Just wait. All he needed was an opportunity. 

 

The moment they entered the shop, a sales woman neared them and offered her assistance.

"He needs a pair of sunglasses. Do you have anything with coconuts on them?" Brian joked, bringing his water bottle up to his mouth.

"I do not want a pair of balls pressing down on my nose," Justin replied with a straight face and Brian almost choked. "Got any Ray Bans?" he asked innocently.

As Justin followed her, Brian smacked his bottom and the teen grabbed his butt to protect it from further attack.

Sunglasses secured, the rest of the afternoon was spent strolling down the beach, stopping every so often to take pictures, and to sit and look out at the ocean and talk about nothing: their plans for the evening, gifts for everyone back home... Returning to the resort complex, they explored all the nooks and crannies, taking more photos of everything and getting the general layout of the place fixed in their minds. 

 

Brian reminded Justin that he had to call his mom and Deb and the teen did so, spending--for him and his mom and Deb--a relatively short time on the phone. "Brian says 'Hi,' " he told each of them even though the supposed speaker was at the moment sitting on the balcony nursing a bourbon and water. When he was done with his calls, Justin joined him and stole a sip of his drink, expecting Brian to fuss but the man barely seemed to notice.

He was gazing out at the ocean, mesmerized by the view. "It's so peaceful here," he said at last. Reached over and laced his fingers with Justin's.

The teen raised their hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over Brian's knuckles. "I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

Standing, Justin went around the table and perched on Brian's lap. "How glad?"

"I'll show you." Brian kissed him softly. "Later."

Groaning, Justin tried to get him to change his mind but Brian just politely refused his every advance until the boy was forced to admit defeat. Returning to his own seat, he took another sip of Brian's drink. A poor substitute--no substitute at all really--but it'd do for now.

Eventually they retired to the bedroom and Brian slept for an hour or so while Justin watched a video he'd had Colin bring up from the library in the concierge's office. The volume turned down low, Justin sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed and hoped he wasn't disturbing Brian. It didn't look like it. Brian was snoring softly and even when the soundtrack got louder--catching Justin by surprise so that he fumbled to lower the volume even more--Brian didn't stir. Finally, just as Mercutio was challenging Tybalt to a duel, "Here's my fiddlestick," he awoke, stretched, and declared himself in need of dinner.

No matter how many times Justin watched Brian dress, he never grew tired of doing so. His own preparations far less elaborate, he was endlessly fascinated by the man's toiletry. Brian showered first, taking care to wash his hair twice before applying the leave-in conditioner. He moisturized his skin even though he used a moisturizing shower gel. Of course, the moisturizer was in addition to the twice weekly application of the French anti-aging cream. About which he was fastidious. Then he shaved, using a hypo-allergenic gel that minimized razor burns and a German razor that glided over his skin. After he shaved he usually dressed and then attended to his hair, styling it to fit his ensemble. Selecting the right outfit sometimes took as little as a few minutes or as much as ten or twenty. His hair took at least that long. Justin observed him in awe. And Deb complained about the amount of time he took in the bathroom.

Tonight he wore a pair of navy, light-weight, worsted wool slacks with a blue-grey silk shirt. Justin put on his cream-colored linen trousers and a matching gold-striped oxford. As they checked their appearance in the full-length mirror, standing side by side, Brian declared them to be eminently fuckable and on-schedule. They had a whole ten minutes to make their eight o'clock dinner reservations at the hotel's French restaurant.

Although he had vowed to have a light meal, Brian did eat one and a half of Justin's lobster ravioli and had dessert after consuming a salmon roulade filled with crayfish mousse. Granted the dessert was a poached pear with raspberry sauce but it was dessert nonetheless. Justin, on the other hand, with the metabolism of a gerbil in heat, consumed, in addition to the lobster ravioli, a bowl of seafood chowder, pan-seared veal chops, and a piece of dense chocolate cake with a rich white chocolate rum sauce. Brian looked on in amusement as the teen longingly gazed at the dessert table, dreaming of seconds. Standing, the man coaxed him from the table by saying, "The sooner we walk off dinner, the sooner we can head upstairs."

Most of the resort's guests who hadn't gone into Nassau were either still at dinner, or in the theatre listening to one of the local bands, or in one of the resort's seven bars waiting for the disco to open at midnight so the beach was relatively deserted. They walked along the shore for half an hour, hand-in-hand, the sun already set, not saying much, just walking and enjoying one another's company.

When they returned to their suite, Brian checked the champagne he had put on ice before they left. It was perfectly chilled. Justin had grabbed something from his drawer and gone into the bathroom to change saying it was a surprise. Brian grinned. He had a surprise of his own.

Justin studied himself in the mirror. Perfect. With a sly smile curling about his lips, he stepped out of the bathroom and froze. Brian was lying on the bed on his side wearing a pair of sheer, black silk georgette lounging pants edged in satin and a three-quarter length matching robe. With nothing else underneath. Not even a jock, or a thong, or anything. It was as if his body were shrouded in a mist that swirled about him revealing his beauty in tantalizing glimpses. The teen could hardly breathe.

Neither could Brian. When Justin had said that he had a surprise for him, he would never have guessed it was a solid black lycra tank top and a matching pair of zip-off shorts. The material conformed to his every curve as if he had been dipped in liquid leather. His cock and nipple ring pressed against the fabric, beckoning Brian to take a closer look.

Slowly Justin crossed to the bed. Brian held out his hand and he took it, trembling a little. He climbed onto his lover and they kissed for a long while, neither of them wanting it to end. Finally they parted and he curled up next to Brian, accepting a glass of champagne. Brian's eyes glistened and Justin knew that no matter what, he would never forget this moment and how beautiful his man had looked. His man. "To us," Brian proposed and Justin touched his glass to Brian's. "To us." He only took the smallest sip before setting his glass down. He had to touch Brian now, make love to him now. The older man apparently felt the same urge because he too put down his glass and moved closer to his young lover.

Justin heard him sigh as he slipped his hand under his robe and stroked his nipple. They joined in a kiss that began gently enough and roughened as they gave into their desires. Justin had to stop himself from biting Brian's mouth, he wanted him so badly. Instead, he caught Brian's lower lip between his own and sucked it until Brian pulled way and sucked his in return. All the while they kissed their hands never stopped roaming, grabbing hold of solid flesh, sliding over smooth skin, kneading hard muscles. Justin drew Brian down upon him, their groins rubbing against one another, and he sensed Brian taking hold of the zipper on the side of his shorts. Slowly Brian unzipped the trunks--just on one side and not all the way off--the sound of the zipper head traveling over the metal teeth sending chills up Justin's spine. Then Brian eased his hand under the fabric, cupping Justin's plump buttock in the palm of his hand. The teen rolled over on top of him and they continued to writhe about, mouths locked together, while Brian's fingers explored Justin's exposed cheek. Then, impatient to have access to both, Brian unzipped the other side and made a two-handed grab for his buttocks. Fuck, his ass is fantastic, thought Brian as he stroked the crevice, the mounds, the sides of Justin's behind, feeling the muscles flex beneath his palms. He had to have more. Releasing Justin, he ordered him to, "Take everything off and lie on your stomach."

The teen complied, watching with regret as Brian slipped out of his robe and pants. He loved the way the silk felt against his skin. He tingled remembering the sensation. When Brian was through stripping, he knelt over Justin's head, lifted his glass of champagne, and poured it over Justin's back and down the center of his ass. Justin exhaled sharply, his shoulder blades drawing in, as the cool liquid ran down over his sides and along the length of his spine. It was mostly the shock of it as the champagne felt so good on his overheated skin. And then Brian's tongue followed the liquid's path: between his shoulders, down along his ribcage, rising and falling over the bumps along his backbone, descending between his cheeks. Justin gasped as Brian's tongue slithered along his ass' divide, down and around his hole.

The heady mix of Justin's natural flavor and aroma and the taste and smell of the champagne led Brian to his target. Eyes closed, he had made his way from the teen's shoulders down into the depths of his ass. Parting his cheeks, he licked Justin's hole, the fine hairs around it damp with champagne. Again he curled his tongue against the knot of flesh and was rewarded when the lips tightened, then relaxed. He could hear Justin sighing as he rimmed him. He loved his little boy's ass. He dreamt about it sometimes, sitting in his office, imagining all the different ways he could open it, eat it, fuck it. Responding to Brian's efforts, the lips relaxed enough for him to get the tip of his tongue inside and he plugged Justin's hole repeatedly until the teen bit down on the pillow to stifle his cries. Giving the red bud a final lick, Brian sat up and glanced down at his cock, stiff and neglected. But not for long.

After catching his breath, Justin moved from beneath Brian and made his lover sit. Then, famished, he attacked Brian's dick, sucking him until he was hard enough to remain erect. Reaching for the same glass of champagne, Justin let a stream trickle over Brian's cock and balls. Not giving him a moment to react, he went about lapping the wine from his skin, slurping it from his piss hole, cleaning the shaft, and sucking his nuts until they were both drunk with lust. Eyes glazed, he continued to feed on Brian's dick, having hungered for the taste all day. He remembered swimming earlier that day and getting a hard-on thinking about Brian's cock, safely tucked away inside his swimsuit, thinking about how his balls would hang heavy between his thighs when freed, how his cock would lengthen and thicken under his guidance. Gobbling Brian's dick, Justin couldn't imagine every having Brian deep enough inside him, either down his throat or up his ass.

Brian gripped the headboard and steadied himself as his cock emerged glistening from Justin's mouth. Saliva ran down the teen's chin and his lips were red and swollen to match Brian's dick and his own asshole which had been so lovingly pleasured by Brian's red and swollen lips and tongue. Then, slowly, Justin licked the head of his prick and Brian felt the room shift. He reached down and eased Justin away from his meat, wrapped his hand around the base and pressed down against his sac. Took great gulps of air and tried to clear his head. Christ, that had been so close.

Justin lay back on the bed, his head about five inches from the foot, and began to stroke his cock. Thinking about Brian's dick buried in his ass. Suddenly Brian grabbed his leg and pulled him towards him. He was on his knees now and he lifted Justin's legs and lower back from the spread and lowered his head between the teen's thighs. Justin gave a cry as Brian's mouth opened around his erection and he was repaid in kind for his treatment of Brian's cock. His meat throbbed each time Brian's head rose, pulling on him, stretching him further and further until he had reached his full length. Letting him slide from his lips, Brian rubbed his palm along the neck of his cock while he fed on his scrotum. Justin knew that Brian loved his balls, he'd told him on more than one occasion, but he'd never acted as if he wanted to suck them right from their sac before. The pressure bordered on pain and Justin gave a cry at which Brian released him, his eyes hazy with desire.

His lover buried inside him, Justin pressed back against him, meeting his thrusts. Brian lay half on his back, half on his side, Justin bucking on top of him. He couldn't pump as hard as he'd have liked but the sensation of Justin's buttocks brushing against his groin set him on fire and all he wanted was to lie back and enjoy the feel of the teen's silky smooth skin against his own; the feel of him tight and warm around his cock; to enjoy the sound of their breathing, harsh, abrupt; the sound of Justin calling to him breathlessly as he stirred in his arms. "Brian, Brian... Brian..." Oh God... They lay together barely moving, Brian's arm tight around Justin's chest, one hand wrapped loosely about his cock, stroking him with long, easy motions... Justin getting harder and tighter, chest expanding as he fought for air, legs falling open, thighs tensing then relaxing, toes digging into the bed as he got closer and closer to his climax. Finally he couldn't take the leisurely pace any longer and he rolled Brian onto his back and knelt over him. He rode Brian's cock until sweat blinded him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gave a cry and arched his back. Cum fell in thick droplets upon the spread. The muscles in his thighs were like steel as he released stream after stream of hot jizz. Brian caught hold of his dick, his fingers instantly wet, and finished jerking him off. He held the teen on his lap until the tremors stopped.

On his knees, his chest flat against the bed, ass in the air, he moaned as Brian lurched wildly against him, having surrendered to the need to come. Hammering Justin hard and fast, Brian shuddered and climaxed. Hissing through his teeth, he humped Justin, unwilling to part from him until he was released from his orgasm. He leaned over, still buried in the teen, and kissed his neck, his back, his shoulders. "I love you." 

 

"You want some more champagne?" he asked and Brian shook his head. Didn't matter, the bottle was almost empty, especially since some of it had ended up on the spread. Luckily not enough to soak through and wet the sheets. They threw back the spread and resolved to leave special instructions for it to be washed everyday. A little restless still, they padded out onto the balcony and enjoyed the view: the moonlight on the ocean, starry sky above. Justin reclined between Brian's legs on the chaise lounge, leaning back against his belly, feeling indecent in Brian's lounging pants. He'd slipped them on before coming out and the silk caressed his skin every bit as amorously as Brian had. Brian wore the robe, tied carelessly at the waist, most of his body exposed by the flirtatious garment.

"Did you ever learn about the constellations?" Justin asked.

"I'm an advertiser, not an astronomer." He added, "If you want to know about the stars, call that crazy guy on PBS; you want to market the stars, I'm your man."

"You think that guy is gay?"

Brian thought about it. "Nah. He's kind of like Mr. Rogers. Sexless."

Justin grimaced. "I do not want to think about Mr. Rogers having sex."

"Look, boys and girls, today we're going to learn about intercourse." Justin giggled. "Can you say intercourse?"

"I can say fucking," answered the teen.

"You get an A+"

"That's what you said to me, that night in the jeep, when Gus was born. You said, 'You get an A+,' " Justin reminded him. "Don't you remember?"

Brian admitted, "The ride home is a little fuzzy." Then, as if he suddenly thought about it for the first time, he asked, "Why'd you go back with me anyway? I was totally fucked. I could have been some kind of lunatic."

"You weren't."

"But you didn't know that."

"I'd just seen you with your kid. And I guess I figured Lindsay wouldn't have had a kid with someone who'd hurt me."

"But you didn't know any of us." He stroked Justin's shoulder absent-mindedly. "And sometimes people are different... when they take drugs."

"I don't know why," Justin confessed. "I guess I wanted you really, really bad."

Brian smiled smugly. "A lot of guys do."

Justin turned and faced him. "Well, they're out of luck, because you're mine." He kissed Brian playfully and pulled back but the sight of his lover's sensual mouth drew him in for another, more serious kiss. "I love you," he whispered.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Brian closed his eyes and smiled, content to belong to someone once more. 

 

_"We're here! We've had the best day and all we've done so far is hang out on the beach, take pictures, eat, and well, you know. Brian's like this entirely different person. Maybe not entirely different, but different. He's so relaxed, and fun, and I don't know, happy, I guess. Maybe it's because it's so great here or maybe it's because we're away from Pittsburgh. I wonder if we moved someplace else would he change and stay like this all the time? Listen to me. One trip and I'm already saying 'we'. I hope I don't start acting like Michael did when he and David got back from Paris. Nah, Brian wouldn't let me. He's out looking at the ocean from our balcony. We just made love for like an hour; it was totally intense. I can't believe how it keeps getting better. I wonder--Never mind. Brian's coming back in. I can't believe how hot I feel--not like the heat--but erotically. I think it's these pants. Maybe I can get him to fool around a little before we go to sleep. It's worth a try. "_

 

Waking up before Justin, Brian hit the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and ordered breakfast. By the time it arrived Justin was sure to have awakened. He always seemed to know when Brian had left the bed. Even if he was in a dead sleep, a few minutes after Brian got up Justin would awaken, blindly feeling for him. Sure enough, he had just gotten off the phone with Marcus when he heard Justin stirring and then a sleepy, "Hey."

"Breakfast is coming." Justin got up to stumble to the bathroom. "Run some water in the tub while you're in there," he said.

" 'kay." He peed, brushed his teeth, and turned on the water. Sat on the toilet seat top as the tub filled. He smiled thinking of the fun they'd have in here. Remembering their hotel escapade, his face burned. Brian had--There was the door. He grabbed one of the hotel bathrobes and went out just in time to see Brian--wearing his sheer, black robe--answer the door. The heat in his cheeks increased fivefold. Not only was he embarrassed but Marcus, who was almost as fair, turned bright red. You could see everything through that robe. Adding to that was the fact that Brian had hastily knotted it about his waist, so that his chest was pretty well exposed to scrutiny as was most of his thighs. Not that it mattered. The sheer fabric offered an unobstructed view of his entire body. But did Brian notice either of their reactions? No. He was busy hunting among the fruit for strawberries to stain his red lips an even darker shade of vermilion. As casually as possible, Justin took the other tray from Marcus and tried to interpose his body between the butler's eyes and Brian's naked ass. "Thanks," he said, releasing the poor man to flee. As soon as he had gone, Justin turned to scold his careless lover. "Brian...!"

He looked up with a piece of mango between his fingers. "What?"

"Why didn't you put on your robe?"

Brian looked down. "I'm wearing my robe."

"Your **other** robe. The one that isn't invisible to the naked eye," he clarified, exasperated by Brian's total lack of self-consciousness.

Carrying the tray back to the bathroom, Brian replied, "So he's seen my dick. Big deal."

Justin followed with the other tray. "Yeah, him and half the civilized world," he mumbled.

Smirking, Brian corrected him. "Two thirds."

They had a leisurely soak in the tub, taking their time eating breakfast and fooling around, nothing serious as they intended to get an early start on the day and go snorkeling out on the reef. Although you really didn't have to know how to swim to snorkel, Justin thought he'd ask and Brian looked at him like he'd just asked the world's stupidest question. "We didn't have a swimming pool but we did learn to swim," he replied, clearly indicating what he thought of Justin and his upper middle class upbringing.

"Don't hate," the teen teased and Brian splashed him. Which meant he had to splash Brian and that led to a few silly minutes of pseudo-wrestling in which Brian ended up on his back, head barely above water, promising to grant Justin whatever he wanted. The teen kissed him lightly and said, "I'll think about it."

Only a few people waited at the dock for the boat that would take them out to reef where the snorkeling was, "...absolutely amazing," promised their captain. Justin studied the flash cards provided by the hotel of the different species of fish they might encounter in the reef.

Once they reached the spot, they applied anti-fog gel to the insides of their masks and then washed them in the water to keep them from fogging up; made sure the silicon skirt was snug on their faces; attached the snorkel to the masks; and put on their fins. Slipping over the edge, down into the water, they waited until they had floated far enough from the boat, and then began kicking away from it, heading towards the reef.

Their captain hadn't lied. Dropping down just half-a-foot, they encountered a world rich in infinite variety and wonder. Bright colors flashed and swirled around them as the fish sought out sustenance and investigated these latest interlopers. Justin tried to catch the fish with his hands while Brian shook his head in dismay and attempted to capture the precious moments on film for posterity. Kids.

At one point, they had gone around a bit of the reef out of sight of the other snorkelers and Justin tried to pull Brian's swimsuit down. Kicking rapidly--but not hard enough to injure Justin if their bodies connected--Brian escaped, one hand on the waistband of his briefs.

They surfaced and cleared their snorkels of water, Justin laughing. "I thought you didn't mind flashing your cock to the world?"

"Those fish looked hungry," Brian replied. The image of Brian flopping around with a parrotfish dangling from the end of his cock cracked them up. "And how would I fuck you with only half a dick?"

They lost count of the kinds and number of fish they spotted during the morning. Several times they re-surfaced and consulted the flip-chart to verify a sighting. The most plentiful fish seemed to be the Yellow Goatfish, the Bicolor Damselfish, and the Sergeant Major. The Yellowtail Snapper were unafraid and would approach them as they explored the reef. Brian's favorites by far were the Fairy Basslets, "Out and proud," he proclaimed, and the Yellowhead Wrasse, "The drag queens of the reef." Justin liked the Blue Tang, the Bluehead, and the Indigo Hamlet. "You just like blue fish," accused Brian.

"I like the Spotfin Hogfish," which were red and yellow fish, Justin replied. "I just haven't seen any." They were bobbling in the water trying to decide if they'd take this boat back or the one in another half hour when Justin spotted a hint of red. "Spotfin!" he exclaimed.

"No way," Brian replied and they were off.

An hour later, exhausted and starving, they regretfully climbed aboard the boat and headed back to shore. If half their pictures came out, they'd have some great shots. Turning in their gear and thanking the captain for a great morning, they dragged themselves to their room, showered, changed, and ventured down to the resort's Asian restaurant where they had teriyaki--Justin couldn't stomach the idea of eating fish after spending the morning swimming among them.

After lunch they lay out on the beach for an hour, Brian with his eyes closed trying to catch twenty winks and Justin wide awake watching the parasailors.

"Please."

Brian didn't even have to ask about what. "Justin..."

"I didn't say anything when you wanted to go scuba diving," conveniently forgetting he'd wanted to go too, "and that's way more dangerous than parasailing."

"Says who?"

"Says the fact that you have to take a course to go scuba diving and you don't to go parasailing."

That was a good point but Brian was the master at putting a negative spin on good points. "The people who go parasailing couldn't pass a test."

Justin returned to basic begging. "Say yes."

"No."

"You can come with me and make sure it's safe," he offered, quite reasonably he thought.

"No, thank you."

"I'm going diving with you."

"You don't have to."

"Good. You go diving, I'll go parasailing."

"Don't even think about it, little boy."

"I'm not a little boy, I'm a man," but he felt completely foolish having to say it out loud.

Brian threatened, "I can still turn you over my knees."

Justin shivered thinking about the last time, then remembered something. "You promised this morning that you would do anything I said," he said and he watched Brian's face freeze. He'd forgotten.

"That wasn't fair. You tickled me."

"Still, a promise is a promise." He played his trump card. "You gave your word."

Brian glared at him, then relented. "Fine." Not exactly the most gracious concession speech ever but it'd do.

"I can go?"

"You can go."

"You'll come with me?" As Brian hesitated, Justin pleaded with him. "Come on. It's only an hour. Maybe less."

"I'll come and watch. Personally, I don't want my ass up in the air--unless I'm getting fucked, and I don't mean fucked up, which is what you're going to be if something goes wrong."

Justin leaned over and kissed Brian playfully. "Thank you."

Stealing another kiss, Brian replied, "Tonight."

A couple had turned and watched them as they kissed. Suddenly a little self-conscious, Justin drew away. "Have you seen any other gay couples around?"

"I didn't expect it to be Liberty Avenue by the sea."

He glanced around at all of the straight couples around them, some of them almost on top of each other and he and Brian got looks just by kissing on the beach. Suddenly angry, he turned to the ocean, hoping no one noticed. But Brian did.

Reaching over, he laid his hand upon Justin's neck and caressed it. The teen looked at him and waited. Brian said ruefully, "The world's not fair, Justin. But you couldn't have expected it to be."

"No," he said softly.

Making up his mind in a flash, Brian stood and pulled Justin to his feet. Kissed him soundly in view of everyone in their area, then lifted him in his arms and carried him, both of them laughing, to one of the resort's seven pools.

Noting the "No Horseplay" sign, Brian set Justin down on the tiled deck and they slipped into the pool like a pair of seals. After swimming a couple of laps, they found a ledge and rested, giggling as they recalled the scandalized faces of the couples around them on the beach. Moving closer together, they kissed, heedless of potential spectators. When they parted, they noticed a woman looking at them, not with any hostility, just curiosity. She seemed to be Brian's age or maybe a little older and had a drink in her hand from the swim-up bar.

"How long have you been an item?" she asked.

Brian turned to Justin. He was better at that sort of thing. "A little over two months."

"The way you are together... seems like longer," she commented.

"We met last September."

"What were you waiting for?"

Justin grinned. "He wasn't sure," he replied and Brian looked chagrined. He hated being talked about as if he weren't there.

"About what?"

"Anything," he answered, extremely amused by the woman.

She moved closer along the wall. "I'm Nya. My husband's... somewhere doing something... aquatic and highly risky."

"Justin." He waited then indicated his silent lover. "Brian."

Nya smiled. "You make a good couple. Everybody noticed you yesterday when you came down to the beach." She laughed and added, "It's just that--you're both so beautiful."

At that Brian spoke up. "Are you trying to proposition us?"

"If I were, would you accept?" she asked point-blank.

"What about your husband?"

"Fuck him," she replied.

"Is he as good-looking as you are?" inquired Brian and she cackled.

"You're bad."

Justin slipped his arm around Brian's waist. "You have no idea."

Nya glanced up and waved at a cute guy in red trunks across the way. "That's my husband. Guess he's done playing." She got out of the pool. "Maybe I'll see you bad boys later. Bye." And she bopped off with her drink in hand, pulling her bikini down in the back as she went.

Brian laughed and shook his head.

"Would you really consider doing it with them?" Justin asked.

"Might be fun. Her husband was kind of hot." Justin looked properly shocked. "But only if you wanted to."

He thought about it, then said, "I don't want to share you with anybody. Okay?" Brian shrugged. Not wanting to bring it up but feeling it seethe inside his head and heart so that he felt he would go crazy if he didn't, Justin started to ask, "Brian?"

"Yeah?"

And he paused. It was so perfect here: the sunshine, the beaches, the ocean... and they were having such a great time. He swallowed the question. "Never mind."

"You sure?"

"When's the diving course start?" 

 

First they filled out the two-page medical history questionnaire. _Could you be pregnant or attempting to become pregnant? Do you smoke a pack or more of cigarettes daily? Have you ever had or currently have: Asthma, or wheezing with breathing or exercise? Frequent or severe attacks of hay fever or allergy? Epilepsy, seizures, convulsions or take medications to prevent them? History of diving accidents or decompression sickness? History of back surgery? History of any heart disease? Behavioral health problems? Do you suffer from drug or alcohol problems? etc._

After they had satisfied the basic swimming requirement by doing two hundred yards nonstop, they went over the equipment, safety procedures, and dive procedures with the instructor until he was satisfied with their basic knowledge. They even watched a video about scuba diving. When that was over, he took them out into the diving pool and began at the shallow end, going over the basic procedures, getting them used to operating the equipment, practicing the safety procedures, and gradually taking them deeper and deeper until they were diving in twenty feet of water. At the end of the hour and a half course, the instructor issued them a resort certification which was good for one thirty foot descent per day and they immediately signed up for a spot on a dive coming up a few days later.

Practically running down to the docks, Justin secured them a berth on the wenchboat that took hotel guests parasailing. They'd have to wait an hour though which was fine with Brian. Despite having agreed to it, he still had his doubts about the whole thing. "What if the line snaps? You'd float off."

"I'll be wearing a chute. I'd just float back down."

Brian gave up. "Okay. Fine."

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Justin assured him.

"It'd better not. Cause after your mom kicked my ass, she'd come for yours. And after she got through with you, it'd be my turn."

"I'm more worried about what she'd do than what you'd do."

Licking his lips, Brian said, "That's because you know how much I love your ass."

"I'm hoping you'll show me how much tonight."

"It's a date."

"I thought you didn't do dates," said Justin, smirking.

"Didn't do boyfriends either and look what I'm stuck with."

Justin pinched him. "The best." 

 

An hour later, Brian watched as Justin put on a life preserver and was then strapped into the harness that would be attached to the parasail. He climbed the steps to the launch platform and a crewman snapped his harness to the chute. On the mate's signal, the captain slowly yet steadily accelerated the boat. Heart in his throat, Brian gazed in equal parts apprehension and admiration as Justin rose gently into the air, a smile spreading across his face.

He couldn't believe it, he was actually floating in midair! It was amazing. The water looked incredible from this height and he had about another hundred feet to go. Brian looked like he wanted to either join him or make him come back down. He wished he could have convinced him to do it too. The freedom... It was like being released from everything that held you down: worries about his relationship with his dad, his relationship with his mom, his relationship with Brian, going to art school... All of it was blown away by the wind that buffeted his face. Everything looked so beautiful from up here. You couldn't even tell that some of those people were bigoted and mean-spirited, that they hated their spouses, hated their children, hated their jobs... from here they were just part of the fantastic scenery.

Justin looked so happy Brian couldn't begrudge him the experience. He smiled and waved at him as he floated above them, carried along by the motion of the boat and the air currents, happy as a six-year-old in a mud puddle. Then laughed as Justin mouthed something to him. A man, waiting his turn, asked, "So where are the women? Out shopping?"

Brian turned. "There are no women. He's with me."

And the guy's forehead wrinkled. "Oh." He grinned. "That's cool too."

 _Thank God for happy drunks_ , though Brian because he could smell the beer on his breath.

From up above Justin waved again and signaled to the crewman to begin lowering him. It was time to go back to his man. 

 

For about the hundredth time Justin kissed him and thanked him for letting him go up and for the hundredth time he let him cause he loved kissing his little boy. "What are we going to do about dinner?" he asked, Justin seated on his lap as they lounged on the balcony.

Justin kissed him for the one hundred and first time. "I don't care." One hundred and second.

Growling deep in his throat, Brian rose from the lounge, threw Justin over his shoulder, and headed for the bedroom. "Dinner can wait."

An hour and a half later they were dressed for dinner at the resort's Italian restaurant. So far Brian had declared both the French and the Asian restaurant to be passably good which was high praise indeed coming from him.

The maitre d' seated them and within moments their waiter had arrived with menus. Brian asked him to suggest a wine, which he did, and he ordered a bottle. The cabernet arrived and they drank a toast to one another while waiting for their appetizers. Which were followed by a soup course and a salad course. The main courses of sea scallops and pan-seared chicken breast were served an hour after they sat down and they took their time eating, savoring each bite and discussing their plans to go into Nassau tomorrow for some serious sightseeing. "I promise not to kill anyone," Brian swore, his hands beneath the table.

But Justin wasn't fooled. "Hands where I can see them and swear that again."

"Okay, okay, I won't kill more than one. An hour."

Laughing, Justin said, "Now that I can believe."

Entres consumed, Justin turned to the dessert menu, and coaxed Brian into having the tiramisu too since he'd known that's what he was going to have the moment he saw it listed. Lingering over dessert and coffee, the two men fell quiet. It was strange, in Pittsburgh silences like this usually meant they'd been arguing, but here it just felt natural, it meant that they had achieved a kind of silent rapport that required no words. Words would not have been enough.

After dinner they rolled up their pants and kicked off their shoes, walked barefoot through the surf. Finding a spot, they sat on the beach and waited for the sun to set. Although it set to the west and out of their direct line of sight, they could still observe the changes in the sky and water. Brian felt Justin reach for his hand and then lean against him. He looked down and, to him, the teen had never looked more inviting. Lowering his head, he kissed him. Justin returned the kiss with equal intensity and they soon found themselves lying in the sand, hearts racing for the second time that evening. By the time they recovered their senses enough to call a halt to their activities, they'd both begun to stiffen.

Back in the room, he slipped a flavored condom over Brian's cock and sucked him off, the older man lying helpless on the sofa, his trousers open and pushed down around his thighs, Justin on his knees before him. Throwing his head back, he cried in a breathless voice, "Justin! Justin... Oh God.. Justin... Oh! Oh God..." Lights exploding behind his lids, the seat cushions gripped in his fingers, he came, his lover's lips tight around his shaft.

Standing, Justin grabbed his dick and jerked off onto Brian's bare chest, his juice running down his lover's skin to rest in his damp, dark pubic hair. With weakened arms, Brian pulled him close and laid his head against his belly, Justin's moist cock brushing against his cheek and leaving a trail of cum. 

 

The next morning Justin ordered breakfast and met Marcus at the door, not wanting to subject the poor man to another early morning viewing of Brian's naked body.

They took breakfast on the balcony and fed each other bits of fruit, Brian pretending to be disgusted by how sweet they had become. "Pretty soon we'll be calling each other 'Dear.' "

"And 'Sweetheart,' " added Justin.

"Just as long as it's not 'Babe.' I hate that."

Justin began to sing, _"They say we're young and we don't know/ Won't find out until we grow."_

"Shut. Up."

Snickering, Justin took a bite of his croissant. Chewed and waited until Brian's attention was distracted by something below them. Whispered while giggling, _"Babe. I got you babe. I got you babe…"_

Without shifting his eyes, Brian promised, "You're going to pay," which made Justin giggle even harder. 

 

Catching an early bus into Nassau, along West Bay Street known as the "Go Slow Bend", they got off at Heritage Village and walked up Chippingham Road to Fort Charlotte. There they climbed the steps to the Guard House where a guide in a red and gold vest waited to lead a group of people on a tour. Having nothing better to do, the two men joined them. The tour guide took them up to the top of the Guard House, across the drawbridge to the observation deck, and inside the fort through the tunnels and into the dungeons, explaining that the fort, named for King George III's wife, had been built in 1788 to protect the city, but that none of its forty-two canons had ever been fired. When the man mentioned that the fort was supposed to have protected the city from the last remnants of pirates to roam the Caribbean, Brian whispered, "Does he mean butt pirates?" and Justin laughed so hard the other members of the tour group gave them dirty looks and they broke away from the crowd to explore on their own. By the time they left an hour later, they had seen the moats and all forty-two of the canons and kissed in the dungeons and taken pictures from the observation deck.

Next on their itinerary was the Ardastra Gardens and Zoo. Although it was a small zoo compared to the Pittsburgh Zoo and Aquarium, with only 300 animals, it was still quite beautiful. They strolled through the gardens and saw parrots and macaw sand cockatoos, peacocks, capuchins and other monkeys, turtles, an ocelot, meerkats, Lulabelle the Vietnamese pot-bellied pig, a two-toed sloth, coatimundi, and a Bahamian boa. Finding a bench in a secluded spot, the sounds of nature around them providing a romantic soundtrack, they made out like a pair of lovers on a secret rendezvous. Emerging a little before eleven they watched the Caribbean flamingo perform, marching under the command of a human drill sergeant who ordered them to parade, muster, and about face at which the birds lined up, advanced, and wheeled about in unison. After the parade was over, they walked back down Chippingham Road to West Bay Street and caught a cab downtown to Rawson Square.

The square was a small tree-shaded park where dozens of surrey drivers waited to take visitors on historical tours of the city. Justin wanted to take a surrey ride and Brian just wanted to find someplace to sit down and have a drink in preparation for the afternoon's shopping expedition. When the driver assured them that it wouldn't take more than twenty to thirty minutes, he gave in and climbed into the surrey grumbling about starvation and its effect on his sex drive. Ignoring him, Justin paid the driver and settled in for an enjoyable and educational ride. They crossed Bay Street on a mosaic walkway and came to Parliament Square, the seat of Bahamian government, instantly recognizable by its beautiful pink buildings. In the middle of the square was a statue of a young Queen Victoria and around her were the Parliament buildings, the old Colonial Secretary's Office, and the Supreme Court. On the buildings were eleven coats of arms from some of the country's 700 islands. Behind the buildings and further up Parliament Street was the Garden of Remembrance which featured the Cenotaph, a tall concrete monument commemorating the Bahamian veterans of World War I and II. On the southwest corner of the square was the Nassau Public Library, an octagonal building with a dome which used to be a jail but was now a public library and museum.

Continuing up Parliament Street, the surrey turned on East Hill Street and continued until it came to the Government House which was situated on a rise overlooking the city. The driver took them all around the house with its statue of Christopher Columbus in front of the main entrance and explained that it was the official residence of the Governor General, the Queen of Great Britain's personal representative to the Bahamas. After circling the Government House, the driver took them up Market Street past the Balcony House, a colonial residence built around 1790 and constructed of American soft cedar; and pointed out the Pirates of Nassau Museum which had wax figures of famous pirates; and the Pompey Museum which was dedicated to the history of Africans in the Bahamas and was housed in the old Vendue House, the site of the old slave market.

Turning onto Bay Street, he drove them past the Straw Market and made them promise to go down and walk along the Woodes Roger Walk with its mosaic promenade, and to go see the Junkanoo Expo Museum. Brian groaned, seeing an even longer day stretching out before him tomorrow. As they dismounted from the surrey, Justin gave the driver a generous tip, thanking him for the great tour and even Brian had to admit that it was more fun than he had anticipated. Figuring he deserved to be rewarded for his patience and diligence, he asked, "Now can we eat?" and Justin assented. Brian had originally wanted to go eat at this Chinese restaurant Henry had told them about called East Villa. He said that the cooks had been imported from China and that the food was excellent but it was too far away to walk and Justin really wanted some authentic Bahamian cuisine so they settled for Chippee's Wall Street Cafe, a second-floor restaurant with internet access. They'd been afraid that they wouldn't be able to be seated since the place was extremely popular with tourists but they must have come at just the right time because they were able to secure a table in just a few minutes.

Despite Justin's urgings, Brian had a rather sedate lunch of grilled shrimp and a lobster salad. Feeling adventurous, the teenager had conch salad and fried grouper. While Brian consumed his lunch Justin kept up a running commentary on how good the conch was and tried to tempt Brian to taste the grouper at every opportunity. Which he refused.

"Did you bring the list?" he asked and Justin checked his bag. Nodded. They had made a list of all of the people they needed to buy gifts for and it seemed to stretch on forever.

"You gonna email Michael while you're here?"

Brian hadn't talked to Michael since they'd arrived. Justin hadn't asked him not to but Brian sensed that Justin felt threatened by Michael and he hadn't made any attempt to contact him. So now that Justin had brought it up, he shrugged.

"You should. I bet he's going crazy not hearing from you."

"Maybe."

Justin craned his neck. "The terminals are over there." He paused. "I'm ordering dessert so there's time."

"Okay!" Brian replied, a little peeved that the teen seemed bent on directing his every move. "I'm going." He got up and went over to the terminals, inserted his credit card and accessed his Pittserv email account. There were about ten emails from some guys he'd met online which he ignored and one from LeCaptainAstro@Pittserv.com. 

 

**FROM: LeCaptainAstro@Pittserv.com  
TO: BrianK@Pittserv.com   
RE: Bahamas Trip**

Brian:

So I guess the trip must be going pretty well since you haven't emailed me to complain about the Boy Wonder. Just remember to drink your protein shakes and take your Viagra like a good sugerdaddy. Seriously, I hope you're having a great time, you deserve it. Talk to you when you get back, although an email or a phone call wouldn't hurt.   
Michael 

 

Brian re-read the message and composed a reply. 

**FROM: BrianK@Pittserv.com  
TO: LeCaptainAstro@Pittserv.com   
RE: Bahamas Trip**

Mikey:

I'll have you know they distill Viagra from my pheromones which is how I can afford my fabulous lifestyle. The Boy Wonder and I are having a great time which is why I haven't emailed or called. Plus, the hotel doesn't supply laptops, just the access. I'm actually in a restaurant using their terminal. If you don't hear from me again, I'll see you when I get back. And don't forget you have to pick us up at the airport.   
B. 

 

When he returned to the table, Justin was scarfing down a bowl of ice cream. "So?"

Brian dipped a finger in the scoop. "So what?"

"Had Michael emailed you?"

"You're awfully nosey."

"It's called conversation."

"It's called snooping."

Justin ate the last spoonful of his ice cream. "You just don't want to tell me."

"Of course he had emailed me. We are talking about Michael, the gay man's answer to Oprah."

"You write back?"

"No, I left him hanging--of course I wrote him back. What the fuck is this? Twenty questions?"

"You're getting angry."

"Yeah, I am. Because this is stupid."

"Why can't I ask you anything about Michael?"

"Don't. Don't turn this into a conversation about Michael."

"It already was."

"What do you think we do? Write each other love notes behind your back? You think we're having a long distance love affair while you and I are here," and he leaned in, "fucking our brains out?"

"No--"

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

"Why do you feel threatened by him?"

"Because he was there first!" Justin blurted out. A couple of people at nearby tables froze momentarily, on guard against a possible altercation, and when they saw that the outburst was over they returned to their meals and conversations.

Patiently Brian explained, "Michael's my best friend. He's always gonna be my best friend, no matter what. Even when we weren't talking, he was still my best friend."

"What about me?"

"You're... my lover. And my partner in life, if you want to be."

"And your friend..." Justin shyly advanced.

"Yeah, that too."

"But not your best friend," Justin admitted, a sad tone in his voice.

And Brian said in a whisper, "Having Michael as a best friend... means I get to have you as everything else." He reached across the table, ignoring the few curiosity seekers, and held Justin's hand. "Okay?" Justin nodded, too emotional to reply. "Then let's go shopping and spend some of that prize money." 

 

Starting at the Straw Market, the two men spent the better part of an hour amazed by all the things a person could make out of straw: handbags, hats, place mats, dolls, toys, necklaces and earrings even, model airplanes and replicas of famous buildings, anything you could think of, someone had done in with straw. Haggling with the vendors more for the sake of having fun than anything else, they left the area with a doll for Molly, a mobile for Gus, a parrot for Vic, a tiny Eiffel Tower for Michael, and a handbag and matching hat for Daphne. In one of the non-straw stalls, they picked up a wood carving for Ted: a man in the shape of a phallus. "He can add it to his dildo collection," Brian teased.

After stopping at a dozen booths, they finally managed to find the perfect tee-shirt for Deb: A picture of the Venus de Milo with coconuts over her breasts and a banana skirt standing over the caption, "Bahama Mama." "Better get her three or four," Justin suggested. "They don't look like they're going to last very long."

They even found a gift for Mel: a pen holder made from two brass-colored painted coconuts. Justin giggled imagining Melanie's reaction to being presented with a pair of brass balls. "To match her own," quipped Brian.

Taking a break, they walked along the Woodes Roger Walk and gazed out at the cruise ships dotting the harbor. Along the fence, vendors had set up tables and it was at one of these tables that they purchased a brightly colored shirt for Emmett. "You think it's bright enough?" joked Justin.

"I don't know," Brian replied, "my retinas have been burned out by the sight of it."

Heading back to Bay Street, Brian stopped in the Burns House and bought a couple of bottles of Glenfiddich for Ryder, "It's his favorite brand of scotch," as well as a few bottles of assorted liquors for his own cabinet--all at a thirty percent discount. He also got Cynthia a pearl stick pin at the Duty Free Jewelry Mart. "For the guys down in the mailroom," he explained. "They're always grabbing for her ass."

"Like you're always grabbing mine?"

Now the only ones left were Lindz and their parents. Making a stop in Leather Masters ("Not that kind of leather master," explained Justin.), the teen found a beautifully embossed leather address book. "I'm gonna get this for my dad and put Deb's address and phone number in it and yours too. Maybe he'll get the hint." He frowned. "Although I get the feeling he's got your number already."

Brian groaned. "That hurt."

Knowing how much his mother liked Gucci, Justin browsed one of the three Little Switzerland stores on Bay Street until his eyes alit upon a stainless steel watch he knew his mother would love. Spending a substantial amount of his prize money, he bought it.

That left Lindz and Joanie.

Only Brian already knew what he was going to get for Joanie. Making his way to the china and crystal section, he found it: a decanter made of Irish crystal. As he paid for it he explained to Justin how his mother used to have one, given to her by his grandmother, but one of the relatives' kids had knocked it over and broken it.

"That's really sweet of you," Justin said, amazed once again at Brian's sensitivity and kindness. Especially towards his mom when things still weren't great between them.

"Well," he replied, "she's trying."

Now they were down to one: Lindz. But it was close to five and the shops were preparing to close for the day and they were exhausted. And loaded down with bags and boxes. They both agreed her gift could wait until tomorrow.

Not bothering to wait for the hotel shuttle, Justin sprung for a cab. Only, just as they were passing through the Fish Fry district along Cable Beach, he had the driver stop at this brightly colored shack and he hopped out and bought two orders of conch fritters.

Declining Colin's offer to help them with their bags, they lugged all of their loot upstairs and dropped everything on the sofa. Carrying his container of fritters to the bedroom, Justin plopped down on the bed and watched as Brian rummaged through his clothes.

"You want some fritters?"

"Nope."

"They're good."

"No, thanks," replied Brian and Justin could hear the skepticism in his voice. "You're going to ruin your appetite."

It had never happened before. "No, I won't."

Brian conceded the point, "You're probably right." Nothing seemed to affect Justin's appetite. Even when he was upset, he could eat.

"Where are you going?"

"To soak in the whirlpool for half an hour," he replied, grabbing his swimsuit and heading for the bathroom. Taking a piss, he undressed, slipped on his swimming briefs, and carried his clothes back to the bedroom. He dropped them where he stood.

Justin was lying on his stomach, naked, eating conch fritters; and in the middle of his back, at the top of his ass just before his bubble butt began to rise, was a piece of fritter. He cocked his head and looked over at his dumbstruck lover. "Want some?"

Lids falling lazily over his eyes, Brian found his voice. "I'll try anything once." He dropped off his briefs and climbed onto the bed, straddled Justin's legs, lowered his head, and ate the fritter right off of its fleshy plate. Justin giggled as it tickled a little but remained supine while Brian finished the tidbit.

"How was it?"

Brian licked the crumbs from where they had fallen into the crevice between his cheeks, tasting the oil and salt and spices--and Justin's sweat. "Delicious."

"Want some more?"

Biting Justin's ass gently, Brian replied, "Yes, please." 

 

Getting up the next morning was a little difficult as they had spent the majority of the night making love, pausing only to order dinner: conch salad and more conch fritters, and later to have dessert sent up: an entire chocolate mousse cake that was just the right consistency to spread over broad chests, erect nipples, flat bellies, slender thighs, plump buttocks, hard cocks, and round balls. By the time they had finished eating, the cake had been demolished, the bedspread wrecked, and their bodies exhausted. They had fallen asleep sometime around two a.m. and foolishly planned to get up in five hours. Luckily they had instructed Marcus to call them at seven sharp and to deliver breakfast thirty minutes later, so at seven thirty-two they were sitting on the balcony eating banana nut muffins and drinking extra strong coffee.

Their gifts lay just where they'd dropped them the night before. They'd bought an extra suitcase, empty, just to hold all their booty and it'd be just about full once they packed all of the presents away, with a little room left over for the things they wanted to get for themselves. So far Justin hadn't purchased anything for himself and Brian had only gotten those few bottles of liquor. There was still plenty of time as they only had to get Lindsay a gift today and they had all afternoon to browse around. Brian had already spotted a couple of items he thought would look perfect on his little boy. Who didn't seem so little anymore or so much of a boy. Glancing over at him, he admitted to himself that Justin was becoming more of a young man each day; despite the temper tantrums--his Teenage Drama Princess moments they called them--and the outbursts of giggles, he was turning into a partner and not just a lover, a bedmate. Brian had always relied on him, whether he admitted it or not, but now he felt confident doing so. Whereas before it always had an air of desperation about it, now it just felt natural. The teen turned, aware of his scrutiny, and smiled in the early morning sunlight. Brian could tell he wanted to ask him what he was thinking about but didn't, knowing how crazy that made him sometimes. So he said, "I was just thinking how I'm going to have to start calling you something other than my little boy."

As always, just hearing him say that started his body to thinking. "That's okay. I like it."

Brian's lips curled. He leaned forward. "Does it get you all excited when I call you my little boy?"

Already his pulse had begun to race. "Yes."

"My hot little boy."

Justin rose and met Brian at the archway to the livingroom. They kissed, leaning against the side of the doorframe, and Brian whispered in his ear, "I love you, little boy."

"Show me."

"What about getting an early start?" he asked as they stumbled to the bedroom, the couch unavailable, covered in bags and boxes.

And Justin held his hand and sucked on his finger, let it slide from his mouth as he spoke. "We are." 

 

Good sense had prevailed and after a quick one they showered and dressed and ran to where the shuttle was waiting. They'd missed the very first one but were able to make the nine o'clock shuttle, which was fine as they would have time in the afternoon as well to do some sightseeing in light of how well they had done the day before with finding gifts.

First up on their sightseeing junket today was the Queen's Staircase. Getting off in Rawson Square, noticing the statue of the Bahamian mother and child for the first time, they walked southeast until they came to the foot of the Queen's Staircase. The staircase, as Justin read to Brian from the guidebook he had purchased yesterday, had been carved out of the stone by slaves. Local folklore said that each of the steps represented a year in Queen Victoria's reign but actually the steps were valuable because they had allowed troops to reach Fort Fincastle from town without being exposed to enemy fire. The fort, built in the shape of a ship's bow, was at the top of the steps on Bennet's Hill. Next to it was the Water Tower, the highest point in Nassau. They climbed the long winding staircase--forsaking the small, rickety elevator--to the top of the tower and found another unofficial tour guide waiting for visitors. He pointed out the different parts of the city visible from the tower. The view was spectacular. To the north they could see the cruise ships docked at Prince George's Wharf; to the west, Cable Beach; to the east, Paradise Island; and to the south, the rest of Nassau itself. Justin asked him all kinds of questions about local history and the man answered his questions with confidence--if not complete historical accuracy--and charm. When they finally left Justin gave him a generous tip and thanked him for the information.

Descending the stairs once more, they made their way back down to Bay Street, stopping to get a closer look at the buildings on and around Parliament Square first, and over to the Pirates of Nassau Museum. Justin loved the wax models of the ferocious Edward Teach known as Blackbeard with his red-ribboned beard, Henry Morgan, Roger Vane, Captain Kidd, William Catt, and the beautiful but nefarious Anne Bonney. The half hour tour, led by a guide in 18th century costume, took them through darkened halls and dungeons recreated from the Age of Piracy and through a reproduction of the wharf as it had been in those days, with pirate ships berthed at the docks. Brian joked that it looked like the Pirates of the Caribbean at Disney World and Justin asked him if he'd ever been on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride to which he replied, "Of course." When Justin gave him a look that begged for additional details, he supplied them. "I was down in Orlando for a marketing workshop and took a side trip to Disney World. I'd never been so I figured, what the hell. Met this guy..."

"Of course," interjected Justin.

"He worked there. Always had a thing about making out on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride."

"One ride wasn't enough."

"Exactly." Brian lifted his eyebrows. "So we did it. On the ride. Kinda bumpy and I got a little seasick but not bad."

Shaking his head, Justin commented, "The life you lead..."

"Led. Past tense," Brian reminded him and the boy's face lit up and they rejoined the tour.

Justin made Brian buy Gus a pirate hat but not the sword as he figured Lindsay and Mel wouldn't like the idea of advocating violence. "Except against me," Brian said of Mel.

From the Pirate museum they strolled down the street to the Pompey Museum. As they walked through the halls of the house and looked at the exhibits documenting the lives of Africans in the Bahamas: the years of slavery followed by independence and poverty and finally the emergence of the modern nation, Justin grew quiet. Brian put his arm around his shoulders and just held him. Justin said quietly, "Why do people...?" He couldn't finish his sentence.

"I don't know," Brian replied, knowing that Justin was thinking about Chris Hobbs. "I guess it really is human nature." Violence, domination, subjugation, hatred, and pain.

"Not mine," Justin disagreed.

And Brian agreed. Bussed him on the cheek. "No, not yours."

"Although..."

"What?" Brian prodded. Justin hadn't wanted to talk much about Chris Hobbs, not even after Chris plead innocent at the preliminary hearing and he knew the teen wasn't looking forward to the trial.

As if he were ashamed of his feelings, Justin said softly, "I wanted... I don't know."

Brian embraced him. "I know. Me too." Truthfully, he suspected that his thoughts and feelings about the accused were a lot less charitable than Justin's. When he'd struck Chris in the parking garage, it had taken all of his willpower--plus his frantic concern for Justin--not to hit him again, to hurt him the way he had hurt Justin. Unfortunately for Chris, their encounter at the hospital had only increased Brian's hostility towards him, something he fought to conceal from Justin. But the fear he'd felt when he saw Justin fall, it was a feeling he never wanted to experience again, and it had all been the fault of Chris Hobbs. Sniffling, Justin looked up into his face and attempted a half-assed smile. Brian kissed him and tugged on his neck. "Come on, let's finish this and go down to the Junkanoo Expo Museum. And then my ass is gonna be museumed out."

Justin snickered. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." 

 

Justin parked himself in front of one of the most elaborate Junkanoo costume exhibits and took out his sketchpad and colored pencils. When he'd seen the information about the museum in the packet the hotel had sent him, he'd known that he had to make some sketches. So while Brian wandered the gift shop looking for a present for Lindsay, he got to work. Pretty soon he was lost in his drawing and didn't notice when someone came and stood at his shoulder. When he became aware of his surroundings again, he knew immediately that it wasn't Brian. Looking up he saw a black teenager, probably his age or a year older, about Daphne's complexion with dark brown to auburn corkscrew curls spiraling from his scalp. Beautiful dark brown nearly black eyes. Full apricot lips. Justin smiled and the teenager smiled back. Motioned with his head at Justin's drawing. "That's pretty good."

American by the accent. "Thanks."

"Where's your boyfriend?" At Justin's startled look, the guy explained. "I saw you two together yesterday on Bay Street."

"How do you know he's my boyfriend?"

"You don't look like brothers and he's not old enough to be your dad. Besides, I can tell."

"How?"

"By the way you are together. I saw you hold something up and call to him and he looked over and shook his head and you both laughed and I could tell that you had known he would say no and he knew you would expect him to say no."

Justin remembered that moment. He'd held up a tee-shirt that said, "Half-mast is better than no mast at all."

"I'm Andre," the teenager said.

"Justin." He paused, then said, "My lover's name is Brian," the words sounding strange and yet comforting too.

Andre glanced around. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Justin replied.

"Me too." He hesitated. "He's what? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight?"

"Thirty," answered Justin, proud that Andre hadn't guessed correctly. Brian would be pleased.

"Wow."

"So you're...?"

Andre sat down next to Justin on the bench. "Yeah. I'm down here with my parents. Kind of a graduation present. Although I wish I were here with my boyfriend."

"He's back home?" Justin asked, putting away his pencils.

"Don't have one. Not at the moment. But I figure at college, maybe I'll meet someone." He gestured at Justin's drawings. "You going to art school?"

"In the fall."

"You're good."

"Thanks. Where are you going to college?"

Andre's face brightened. "UCLA."

"Cool," said Justin. "I bet there are a lot of hot guys there."

"I live in Riverside but we used to go up to LA all the time. The guys are unreal. Especially around Venice Beach."

"I don't think there'll be any hot guys at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts," confessed Justin.

"You'll be there." Andre smiled shyly and Justin returned the gesture. "Besides, what do you care? Brian's totally hot."

"Yeah, he is," said Justin, his words woefully inadequate to describe Brian's level of sexual attractiveness.

Andre grinned. "I bet you guys are fucking like bunnies."

"All the time," confessed Justin. "Brian says I'm wearing him out."

They laughed and then Andre glanced something that sobered him a bit. "I see my parents. I'd better go. We've got about a hundred things left to do before we leave on Saturday."

" 'kay. It was good to meet you."

"Yeah, you too. Maybe I'll see you around before we go."

"Cool."

"Later."

"Later." Justin watched as Andre schlepped over to a middle-aged couple and then all three headed for the exit. His drawing finished, he stuffed his pad into his backpack and jumped when Brian spoke behind him.

"Cute."

"My drawing or Andre?"

"I didn't see your drawing," Brian confessed.

"I thought I was the only twinkie you were interested in."

Brian pecked him on the back of the neck. "You are." 

 

Munching on a bit of fried grouper on the rooftop of the Prince George Rooftop Cafe, Restaurant, and Lounge, Brian announced, "I'm going to have to get one of those wrist cords that people put on their kids."

"For what?"

"For you."

"Why?" asked Justin, about to burst into laughter at the image of Brian leading him around by one of those things.

"To keep an eye on you."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Brian took a big gulp of iced tea. "I saw the way that twink was looking at you."

"He was interested in my drawings."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Brian inquired dryly.

Justin munched a French fry. "We talked about school... and you."

"What? About how you could get rid of me?"

Grinning, Justin asked, "Are you jealous?"

"Pragmatic."

His own fries decimated, Justin reached across the table to finish Brian's. "I would never leave you for another twink."

Aware of the fine distinction implied by his words, Brian asked, "What about for another man?"

Justin thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nope." He stroked Brian's hand with a finger. "I've got the best one already."

Hazel eyes smoldering, Brian commented, "You're only saying that cause it's true."

The rooftop felt like it was about to go up in flames and it had nothing to do with the sunlight beating down on it. 

 

Since Brian had found a beautiful piece of cloth with a Junkanoo costume print on it for Lindsay, they had the entire afternoon to do whatever they wanted. They did some shopping for themselves, getting mostly touristy kinds of things--which would end up in box somewhere or on a shelf in Deb's house--with a few serious purchases thrown in for good measure. Brian picked up a delicate coral carving of a dolphin, something Justin thought he'd never have noticed, and made a couple of furtive purchases which let the teen know that the gifts were for him. Instead of trying to find out what they were, he put his curiosity on hold and did some secret shopping of his own.

Stopping back at the hotel, they dropped off their stuff then went down to the hotel dock and got in line for the glass-bottom tour of the harbor that started in fifteen minutes.

While it wasn't as exciting as snorkeling around the reef, the fish did look beautiful and it gave them a chance to take a breather. Brian was convinced that he would need another vacation to recover from their vacation. But he wouldn't have missed this for anything in the world. It constantly amazed him at odd moments how much he treasured these days and nights with Justin.

The boat tour over, they returned to the room and packed all of their purchases away in the empty suitcase. There wasn't a bit of room to spare. Of course, they had broken their one gift per person rule and gotten some additional knick-knacks for almost everybody. It was a good thing they were leaving in three days or they'd have to buy another suitcase--which wouldn't have been a hardship with all of the luggage shops on Bay Street.

Opting to stay in for the evening, they showered and changed for dinner, sampling the fare at the hotel's restaurant that offered international cuisine. Brian had a seafood strudel and Justin ordered the grilled leg of lamb, both quite good. After last night's dessert extravaganza, they shared an order of zabaglione with raspberries on top, heading immediately afterwards for the beach and a well-needed walk.

"I'm going to have to hit the gym three times a day when we get back just to work off all this food," Brian said, patting his extremely flat stomach.

"There's a fitness center in the hotel," Justin pointed out and Brian shot him a dirty look.

"And when would I have time to use it?" he asked.

Good point. Justin hooked his arm through Brian's and laid his head upon his shoulder. "I'd love you even if you were a whole two pounds heavier," he teased.

The sky looked so beautiful that when they got back to their room they carried the spread out to the balcony and used it to cover the two cushions from the chaise lounges that they had put upon the floor. Their makeshift bed complete, they laid on their backs, holding hands, and marveled at the changing colors overhead. Watched as the sun went down and the stars came out one by one... as the reds and oranges of the dusk were replaced by the dark blues and blacks of the night.

Gradually the stars were forgotten in favor of a more earthbound view: that of one another's eyes as they came together in a kiss that seemed to last forever. Brian slipped out of his sheer robe and Justin eased out of the matching bottoms in preparation for an open-air bout of lovemaking when Justin realized that the people in the rooms around them could probably see and hear them since the railing around the balcony hid nothing from view. Brian was shameless enough for it but Justin wasn't quite up to public fucking yet despite the episode in the Jeep, so they dragged the spread-covered cushions just inside the living room and closed the curtains to the balcony. They'd still get the breeze and there was still a chance that someone would hear them but at least they'd be out of the public eye.

An hour later Justin was certain they'd been heard. God, he'd never moaned like that before. Brian had found his spot and hit it just right, and the tropical breezes had played over his body like a second lover. Together the two sensations had kept him crying out with each breath. He was still tingling all over from the intensity of his orgasm. Still lying beneath Brian's body, the man having collapsed on top of him in exhaustion, Justin savored the feel of his lover's weight on his chest and thighs and belly and laid trembling hands on his wet back and buttocks. Drunkenly, Brian raised his head and kissed him. 

 

Fourteen hours later they were finishing off a light lunch in the cafe on the hotel's private offshore island having gone snorkeling in the morning. Intending to have dinner in the city and then go out clubbing, they'd opted for a lazy afternoon lying on a deserted stretch of beach or in one of the wicker hammocks hung among the trees a discreet distance from civilization. At Brian's feet lay a bag which he had packed himself and refused to show to Justin no matter how much the teen had begged. Lunch done, Brian picked up the bag and instructed the teen to follow him. He led them on a fifteen minute walk to a grove of trees that seemed to have been overlooked by the world. Ordering Justin to stay where he was, Brian scouted out the area and returned satisfied. "Make yourself scarce for ten minutes and then come back here."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Rolling his eyes, Justin gave in. "How am I supposed to know where here is?"

Brian looked around and agreed. From the beach this area of trees looked like every other area of trees. He removed his shirt, which was white, and tied it around a tree. "There. Think you can find it now?"

As he strolled off Justin flung, "This had better be good," over his shoulder.

Grinning, Brian disappeared into the trees. It would be.

Exactly ten minutes later Justin returned and found the tree with Brian's shirt on it. His shirt had a note pinned to it: "Follow the clues and do what the notes say. Leave the shirt." Shrugging, he searched for the next clue. Found it lying over a bush; it was Brian's shorts with another note. "Take off your shirt and shorts and leave them." Justin glanced around to make sure no one had popped up out of the bushes and removed the listed items, only keeping on his swimming briefs. He went forward. The next clue was draped over the branch of a juvenile palm tree: Brian's swimsuit. Next to it was a pair of trunks. The upper half was made of a sheer black mesh and the lower half was a piece of cloth patterned with tropical flowers. The patterned portion of the trunks would barely cover his cock and the bottom of his ass. The majority of his groin and ass would be visible through the sheer material. The trunks were extremely revealing and highly erotic. Just looking at them, imagining how he'd look in them, Justin felt a stirring in his groin. The note said, "Put these on and meet me at the hammock." Quickly, he kicked off his old briefs and slipped on the new trunks. They had to be the ones Brian had talked about in the dressing room when his mom had rejected the thong swimsuit. If she could only see him now. He laughed and went in search of his hidden lover.

Found him lying on a hammock wearing a pair of skin-tight, semi-sheer black trunks with horizontal tiger striping that left nothing to the imagination. There was no cloth to hide his cock or his ass. He stood and Justin's lips parted, wanting him so badly he could taste it on his tongue. Brian held out his hand and Justin took a step forward. Their fingers entwined, their bodies came together, and then their lips met in a deep kiss. Still joined, Brian turned them so that the edge of the hammock bumped against Justin's buttocks. Gently, he eased the teen into the hammock and got in with him. At first Justin was worried that the hammock and the trees wouldn't be able to support their weight, but the wood held. A soft, thick cushion below him and Brian above him, Justin was in paradise.

He cupped Brian's dick through his trunks and stroked him until he stirred and pressed against the thin material. Joining in the fun, Brian slipped his hand between Justin's thighs and rubbed against his cock and balls, exciting the teen, coaxing his genitals to stiffen and fill. They kissed and played with one another until they were both ready to take it to the next level. Brian climbed out of the hammock and stood at the side. Thumbs beneath the waistband, he lowered his trunks until they were down around his thighs. Justin crawled to the middle of the hammock and lay on his belly, his legs stretching out over the other side, his head and arms free on the other. Moving closer, Brian fed his cock into the teen's open mouth. To keep his chest from pressing down too hard against the edge, Justin held onto the rim of the hammock so that Brian was in complete control. At first he was content to just let the teenager suck his cock but after a while he wanted more. Gradually, he began to pump his hips, drawing his cock over the young man's tongue. Justin sucked hard on the head as it passed over his lips, loving the way the broad expanse felt and tasted. Letting go, he turned over onto his back and Brian lifted one knee onto the hammock and gave him his cock once more. Justin gobbled his dick, saliva running back over his cheeks like reverse tears, and tugged on his own, growing harder by the moment. At last Brian pulled out and went around the other side of the hammock.

Justin had managed to get his trunks down over his cock but no further. Drawing them down around his knees, he fastened onto the swollen organ and sucked until Justin began to moan. Upon which, he released him and licked up and down the length of his shaft not stopping until the head arched over Justin's belly button. Reaching down into the bag at the base of the tree, he removed a condom and unrolled it over his dick. Flipped the top and pressed the opening of the tube of lubricant against Justin's hole and squeezed, dropped it on top of the bag, then began massaging the wrinkled lips, spreading the lube over the knotted opening until he was able to ease a finger inside. Slowly, he pressed forward until his finger was buried to the hilt. Sliding it out again, he quickly repeated his actions, increasing the tempo and force until Justin was whimpering and begging for more.

Finger withdrawn, he pressed his cock against Justin's hole and pushed, spreading the lips of his ass open wide around him. He continued to apply pressure until he was completely sheathed. Justin was holding onto the edge of the hammock with an iron grip. His head hung back over the rim and he looked upside down at the world around him. And then he began to move. Not just him but the entire hammock. Instead of withdrawing, Brian had taken hold of the hammock and pushed it away from him. Keeping a firm grip on it, he allowed the hammock to swing back towards him. Muscles tensing, he pushed it away again and continued the reverse fuck, loosening his hold a little at the very end so that Justin roughly came to rest against him. As Justin's hole relaxed, he began pushing him away and allowing him to swing back towards him, only stopping him at the very last moment so that they jolted against one another at the completion of each stroke.

Mouth open, Justin cried out each time he came to the end of his journey, Brian's dick buried in his ass, his lips smarting a little from the force with which he slammed into the man. Hanging upside down, Justin's vision had begun to get fuzzy as he got closer to his orgasm. But he could still see well enough to realize that they weren't alone.

At the edge of the line of trees, he saw two faces: a man and a woman. Watching them as they fucked. Raising his head, he looked up at Brian, saw that his eyes were closed as usual. He wanted to warn Brian but he couldn't catch his breath enough to string together two sentences. All he could do was hang on and enjoy the ride and hope that the couple eventually grew tired of the show and left before the final curtain. Unfortunately, they showed no signs of leaving. But it was no longer important. Clenching his teeth, he tried to hold back the shout that was bubbling in his belly but he knew that it was only a matter of a few more hard jolts and he'd be lost. Sure enough, Brian's grip on the hammock slipped and he slammed hard into his cock and saw stars. Yelling, he felt the first spurt of cum land upon his stomach. Brian stopped moving the hammock and grabbed his dick, jerked out the next stream. And the next. He continued pulling on Justin's dick until the teen's belly and chest were dotted and streaked with spunk.

When Justin's ass had ceased to spasm, he withdrew and pulled off his condom, bringing himself off with a few rough pulls that snatched the cum from his balls and scattered it upon Justin's body. Within a few moments his jizz had mixed with Justin's and the teen's torso was wet with his cum as well. Giving a great sigh, Brian leaned over him and kissed him hard. His eyes opened and he met the eyes of the couple watching them. When they realized that he'd seen them they hurried off. He laughed weakly and lowered his head. Laughed again. Fuck 'em. Maybe they'd learned something. He hoped they'd left a tip. After a performance like that, they deserved at least a few dollars. The thought tickled him and he laughed again. 

 

Justin's face was still red hours later. And not from the sun. He avoided looking at anyone on their trip back to the mainland. Of course, it didn't help that his ass was more than a little sore and he kept fidgeting on the bench. Brian, on the other hand, seemed to take great delight in playing "Match the Faces," studying each couple to see if they were the Peeping Toms from earlier. Leaning over, he whispered to Justin, "Think of it as community service." The teenager choked back his laughter and tried to look stern but the shit-eating grin on Brian's face sabotaged his best efforts to remain serious and he snickered too.

With hours to kill before their seven thirty dinner reservations, they crashed on the bed and watched _Velvet Goldmine_ while Brian nursed a Jim Beam Black Manhattan, giving Justin a sip every now and again and letting him take the cherry since, as he said, "I took yours." Calling _Velvet Goldmine_ "the pretty boy movie," Brian actually paid attention to what was going on more than he usually did when they watched anything other than his favorite films.

"Should I be jealous?" Justin asked as Brian eyed Jonathan Rhys Meyers with more than a little interest.

"Nope. I've got the best golden pretty boy there is," Brian replied, pulling Justin closer.

"He's a lot like you, maybe being outrageous is a Brian trait," suggested Justin since the character was named Brian as well.

They did seem to share a lot of the same characteristics: pouty lips, beautiful eyes, a slinky, smoky sexuality that was very masculine yet tempered by grace, and a flair for the dramatics. Brian loved one of the character's quotes, _"Nothing makes one so bold as being told one is a sinner."_ And although he identified with the character of Brian Slade, like his fictional counterpart, he really got into Curt Wild, especially when he was singing, "Gimme Danger". Watching Ewan McGregor writhing about on the floor was making him hot, Justin could tell. His lips had parted slightly and he got that lazy look in his eyes, the way he did when they were about to make love. There was something about the way Curt screamed, _"I wanna feel it! I wanna feel it!"_ that Justin knew Brian understood on the most basic level. He was like two people, the sleek ad exec who presented a tasteful facade to the world and the other man, the one who went clubbing and took drugs and drank and fucked--all in the service of sensation, of trying to feel something, anything, even if it was pain. Hearing Cecil say of Slade in the movie, _"Brian was elegance walking arm and arm with a lie,"_ Justin looked at his Brian. You could say the same about him. And he wondered, which Brian was with him now? Curt, talking about him and Brian, said, _"We set out to change the world… ended up just changing ourselves."_ And Arthur asked, _"What's wrong with that?" "Nothing,"_ Curt replied, _"if you don't look at the world."_ Justin thought about them, on this trip; was this their way of not looking at the world? What would happen when they got back home? And then the movie ended and his Brian was still with him and he found that he didn't care to think about the future. The here and now was quite enough.

Around six they started getting ready for dinner and Justin watched Brian go through his routine before slipping into a completely white Yves Saint Laurent suit with an almost knee length white jacket perfectly tailored to silhouette his tall, slender frame. Justin took one look at him and said, "You look like you belong in Velvet Goldmine." To which Brian winked. In his new outfit from Emporio Armani that his mom had purchase, a light blue-grey silk suit with a slightly darker sweater, Justin was no slouch either. They both looked like they had just stepped out of the pages of GQ.

As they passed through the hotel lobby, heads turned. Colin caught their attention and signaled his approval. The taxi waiting outside ferried them to the east end of the island to the Sun And... restaurant. To get to the restaurant they had to walk across a drawbridge, through an archway, and then into a secluded garden. Requesting a courtyard table, they were seated next to the pool. As per instructions on the menu, Justin ordered his Souffle au Chocolat at the beginning of their meal and then they waited for their appetizers to arrive.

"You aren't afraid of getting something on your suit?" Justin asked as Brian negotiated the jumbo shrimp cocktail.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "I've been doing this a lot longer than you, I think I've got the hang of it."

Making sure no one was watching, Justin stuck out his tongue.

A cool ocean breeze ruffled the table cloth and Brian's hair. Sipping his Chardonnay he seemed a bit pensive to Justin. Risking his anger, Justin asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Brian set down his wineglass, tapped his finger against the stem. "Life." Chuckled softly. "I wonder if Curt Wild was happier than Brian Slade in the end?" he asked softly, as if he were ashamed to still be thinking about the film.

"I wish they could have stayed together."

"Different ways of living in the world. Brian was nothing but artifice, he put nothing of himself in the music, and Curt... the music, his life, they were all the same."

Justin glanced away then back, sensing that Brian was talking about himself somehow, about the two of them. "But they were so miserable apart."

"Yeah." And that was it. Nothing more. He smiled suddenly and looked up as the waiter brought their salads.

Dinner progressed and by the time they had finished the main course Brian seemed to have shaken off the malaise caused by the film. Popping the last of his seared sea scallops into his mouth, Brian chewed happily and sat back in his chair, completely satiated, no traces of the sadness from before remaining. He tipped the last of the Rothschild Sauvignon into his mouth and smiled. "That was amazing."

Justin had just finished eating the last bit of his lobster fricassee and was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his souffle. "No dessert?"

"Maybe some strawberries and cream," he replied. Held out his arms to display his spotless shirtfront. "See? Look, Ma, no stains."

"Shut up." Justin had gotten a spot of cream sauce on his shirt and had had to endure ribbing from that moment on.

The waiter returned and Brian ordered the Coupe Romanoff--strawberries dusted with powdered sugar and served with whipped cream.

"So we're going to go back and change and then go clubbing?" Justin asked.

"Yeah. Colin said the Bahamas Boom Beach Club was the hottest club in the islands. Not as many bars as The Zoo but good music."

"Maybe we can hit both," Justin suggested.

"That's why I keep you around. You're so smart," teased Brian.

Dessert arrived and Brian allowed himself to be coaxed into taking a bite of Justin's souffle and reciprocated by giving up one of his strawberries. The way the berries stained the teen's mouth, he was tempted to lean over and lick the juice from his lips but he restrained himself. There'd be plenty of time for that later.

Having paid the bill and thanked the waiter for a great meal, they caught a cab back to the hotel and changed into their dancing clothes; Brian had brought his black buckle-strapped tee-shirt in anticipation of going out dancing one night. He threw on a grey silk shirt just in case the club proved to be more formal than the tee-shirt. Justin slipped on Brian's semi-sheer black shirt--the one Brian had yelled at him to take off when they'd lived together--and figured if he got too hot, he'd just go bare-chested.

Moby was playing when they arrived, irony of ironies, and they insinuated themselves into the crowd, found a clear square foot of space, and began dancing. Brian fully admitted that he was, at best, a serviceable dancer, but Justin, Justin was something else. Gyrating his hips, pumping his tight bubble butt, he drew the attention of most of the people around him. A few of them clapped and urged him on and he reveled in it, kicking it up a notch. By the time they took a breather, he was covered in sweat. Laughing and shaking his head, Brian pinched the front of his shirt and tugged him off the dance floor.

Brian leaned in and warned, "You're gonna set this place on fire if you're not careful."

"Can't douse this flame," Justin replied.

Stealing a kiss, Brian whispered, "Then burn it down, baby."

Just as they returned to the dance floor Radiohead came on and although they started the song apart, by the time the second verse began they had moved closer together, Brian's arm around Justin's shoulders, groins pressed together, bodies responding to the pulses in the music. Before they knew it they were kissing, the crowd forgotten, heedless of where they were. Brian's hand had slipped up under Justin's shirt and Justin had eased Brian's silk shirt back over his shoulders before they realized that not only were they not in Babylon but that they had garnered quite an audience. Moving apart, they started dancing again, erotic motions substantially reduced.

"Hey!"

Brian looked around. It was the woman from the pool. Nya. "Hey."

"You two are something else," she commented grinning. "Caught your act from way over there. I thought you were going to do right on the floor." She licked her lips. "Too bad you stopped."

Remembering the couple from that afternoon, Justin blushed.

They made room for her and she danced with them, giggling as the two men courted her with their moves. And again, the music and the situation got the best of them and Nya found herself getting hotter and hotter as the two lovers seduced one another around her, through her, with her. Pressed between their two bodies, she could feel them getting harder, the bulges at their groins brushing against her as they danced. Head thrown back, she felt Brian's lips on the side of her neck, Justin's at the nape and she gasped, wanting them to--

A hand grabbed her and pulled her from between them. All three looked up with lust-hazed eyes. Her husband stood there, glaring at the trio. "What the fuck are you doing?" Dennis whispered harshly.

Nya attempted a weak smile. "Dancing?"

Catching the husband's eye, Brian pursed his lips. "Wanna dance?"

Nya began dancing around Dennis. "Come on, baby..." Soon Justin and Brian joined her, surrounding her husband. The poor man tried to break through them but couldn't as they kept the circle tight. Finally, he gave up and just danced with them. "That's it, baby," she whispered.

At some point Dennis became aware of Brian moving behind him and, at first, he resisted and then he admitted to himself that he liked the feel of Brian's body against his hips. Fuck, he was getting so hot, so hard... Nya pressed against him and the twin sensations went right through him like lightning. He felt someone's hand cup his groin and at that point he didn't care who it was. Looking down, expecting to see Brian's hand at his crotch, he followed the arm and met a pair of bright blue eyes. Justin curled the tip of his tongue, beckoning him but he couldn't move, locked between Brian and Nya.

By the time they left an hour later, Dennis had nearly come in his pants. Outside, under the street lights, his face turned beet red but he did manage to mumble, "Thanks," to the two lovers before stumbling off with Nya to find a cab to take them back to the hotel.

"I think our work here is done," Brian announced. He kissed his golden pretty boy. "What do you say we head on back too?"

"That was so fucking hot," Justin admitted.

"We could still catch up with them and..." suggested Brian.

But Justin shook his head. "Seeing you with them only made me want you more."

Brian chuckled and wrapped an arm around Justin's neck. Hailed a cab. 

 

He sank beneath the surface of the waves, eyes open behind the protective goggles. The sun flickered like candlelight through the water. The only sound he could hear was his heart beating, echoed in the pulse at his temple. He closed his eyes and continued to descend. Hair floating around his head like a madman's halo, he glanced over at Justin and beyond him, their guide. The man made motions with his hands that they were just about to the thirty foot limit. It didn't matter, the view was spectacular. This was the site of what was known as the James Bond Wrecks. One of the wrecks was the Tears of Allah, a former tugboat now broken up underwater on the southern side of New Providence. Near it was scaffolding from the movie Thunderball which had been underwater for over thirty years. Coral had grown over it and it looked like nothing so much as a multi-colored jungle gym teeming with tropical fish. They couldn't have asked for a better dive site. Justin had already begun filming the ship and the nearby reef.

Brian remembered the ship from Never Say Never Again, vaguely remembered the plot of the movie, like it mattered. James Bond saved the world, got the girl, all of the movies were the same. Although he did secretly harbor a thing for Timothy Dalton, thought he was the best Bond even if he had only starred in two of the films, there was something about him. He'd fuck him. Putting thoughts of Her Majesty's Secret Service from his mind, he concentrated on enjoying the view and the sensation of floating above the world even if the world was only a wrecked ship, scaffolding overgrown with coral, and a reef full of fish. Now he knew how Justin had felt parasailing and he regretted not going up as well. But not too much; this was enough. Besides, they only had an hour, no time for regrets.

Taking the video camera from Justin, Brian filmed the teen swimming among the fish near the Thunderbolt wreck, admiring his agility, his sense of wonder, and he thought, _Thank you_ , to no one in particular. _Thank you for giving him to me._

At the end of their hour, they swam back to the surface and climbed aboard the boat for home. Home. A hotel room half the size of his loft and already it had begun to feel like home. Because they were in it.

Showering and changing quickly, they had lunch in one of the hotel restaurants, then hopped onto the bus and rode into the city. Flagged down a cab to take them over to Paradise Island to the Atlantis Hotel. They felt a little guilty visiting a rival hotel but everyone had assured them that it was not to be missed, especially the waterscape. It was comprised of eleven million gallons of water in eleven lagoons. They had 50,000 sea animals from over 200 mostly Bahamian species in the habitats. Justin really liked the Ruins Lagoon with fake Atlantis artifacts. But they both fell in love with the Predator Lagoon. Brian, of course, was partial to sharks, barracuda, and rays, but it was the one hundred foot underwater tunnel running through the lagoon that won them both over. It was amazing, walking through the habitat while sharks swam around and over you, pursuing schools of fish among the coral.

By the time they went in for dinner they'd seen all eleven habitats including The Dig, a labyrinth representing mythical Atlantis. As you walked through the rooms of the labyrinth, you could look through viewing windows at the ruins of Atlantis and see its current denizens: the fish of the habitat. Justin thought it was wonderfully cheesy and cool at the same time and he took a plethora of pictures to show the guys back home.

Although they didn't eat in the Fathom restaurant, they did go inside so that Justin could take a picture of the huge aquarium that dominated the dining room. Shot secured, they made their way over to the Five Twins where they had reservations. While they both agreed that the food was awesome, Justin felt the meal they'd had at Sun And... was the best they'd had in the Bahamas. Brian accused him of being a food snob since Sun And... was the epitome of fine French dining and Justin didn't disagree.

Dinner over, they breezed through the casinos but neither one of them was a fan of gambling so after a brief walk-through they went down to the beach and wandered around for a while but there were so many kids that Justin felt it was time to get Brian back to the Baja Mar--before he tossed any of them into the Predators Lagoon.

Back over the bridge and into Nassau, they debated hitting the bars until the clubs opened but their hearts really weren't into bar hopping and clubbing tonight. It was their last night on the island. Tomorrow they'd board the plane back to Pittsburgh. In the end, they took a taxi back to the hotel and went for a stroll along the beach--blessedly child-free--and talked about their trip, about all the things they'd seen and done. By the time the sun set, they were ready to go upstairs.

Seated on one of the chaise lounges, they shared the bottle of champagne they'd found waiting for them with a note attached to it: "Thanks for everything. It was the best ever! Nya."

Justin curled up in Brian's arms and gazed up at the stars. Remembered them talking about the constellations. Wondered if they'd ever look at the stars together again once they returned home. He doubted it. Stargazing just wasn't something you did in Pittsburgh, he didn't know why, he just knew that it wasn't. He shivered, thinking of all the things they'd never do again and Brian mistook the gesture and suggested they go inside. After all, there was a breeze and they had on a minimal amount of clothing, Brian having opted for his sheer robe and Justin having put on the sheer tropical trunks Brian had purchased him. But Justin replied, "No. It's okay." So Brian tightened his hold on the teen and they settled down once more.

It felt so good, lying on the balcony with Justin in his arms. Brian never wanted the evening to end. But it would. Eventually, they'd go inside and go to bed and in the morning they'd get up, pack their bags, and take a taxi to the airport. Back to glorious Pittsburgh. He didn't think he'd ever hated Pittsburgh as much as he did at that moment. And he could tell that Justin was barely keeping his feelings at bay. So he swallowed the sadness and smiled, determined to make the most of the time they had remaining. Drawing away from Justin, he asked, "You sure you don't wanna go inside?" with that lazy look in his eyes.

Justin smiled playfully and stood. Pulled Brian from the lounge and led him to the bedroom. Pushed him onto the bed and jumped on top of him. "Oooph," Brian grunted.

The teenager kissed him hard then sat up. "Didn't you say you'd packed some toys in your suitcase?"

"Fuck." He grinned. "I'd forgotten all about them."

Justin rolled off of him. "Don't you think it's time you remembered?"

Going to his bags, Brian took out a package he'd gotten from a shop on Bay Street instead. He ordered Justin to stand and strip, and to close his eyes. "Hold out your arms."

"For what?" the teen asked, easing off his trunks and closing his eyes. He waited for an answer.

"Just do it." Justin raised his arms. Lips curled in a smile, Brian removed his gift from its box. It was a gold waist chain hung with a tiny, golden sun. Arms meeting behind Justin's back, Brian encircled his slender waist with the chain and fastened it close, the charm lying against his flat belly. "Okay, open your eyes."

Looking down, Justin smiled. "It's beautiful."

"I thought it'd look better than a wrist cord." Tugging on the chain gently, he drew Justin to him. "Now I'll always know where you are."

Justin pulled Brian's head down and kissed him murmuring, "Right next to you."

Moving around back of Justin, Brian ran his hands over his high, tight buttocks, squeezing them gently at first and then harder, kissing his neck and shoulders. He slid one hand over Justin's abdomen and rubbed it, feeling the chain roll beneath his fingers.

Brian's hand felt so good on his belly, fingers slipping down into his pubic hair, pulling the strands, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to add to the plethora of sensations. Brian opened his robe and wrapped it around them both, stroking Justin's cock with the smooth material, rubbing his thighs, his chest. Each time Brian's robe brushed against him it was like an electric jolt went through Justin's body. "Touch me," Justin whispered.

"Where?" asked Brian.

"Everywhere," he replied.

So he did. Laying Justin upon the bed, Brian slowly went over every inch of his body. From his temples to the soles of his feet, no measure of flesh escaped notice, no nook or cranny was so insignificant that Brian overlooked it. Ferreting out the places where pleasure took refuge, Brian coaxed it from its hiding place with gentle kisses and whispered words of love. When he was done, Justin's body tingled all over and he wanted Brian inside of him.

"Fuck me," he said and it's what he wanted. Not to be made love to but to be fucked.

"What about the toys?"

"Fuck me now," Justin commanded and he reached over and tugged on Brian's dick. "Or don't you want to?" he asked but before Brian could answer, the teen had begun to lick his cock, so hungry for it he had to have it somehow, if not in his ass then in his mouth. Brian leaned back and let Justin blow him.

"Suck it, baby," he urged the teen. "Make me hard. Suck that dick." Whispered, "Oh, fuck yeah..."

Justin pushed Brian onto his back and climbed on top of him, applied even more pressure to his cock causing Brian to cry out. "Oh, baby... There... Yeah... Lick it," he begged as Justin hollowed his cheeks and increased his activities. Brian moaned and caught his breath as Justin let him slip from between his lips aching and hard. The teen drew Brian's arms over his head and held them there, not allowing him to touch his cock. Gradually Brian calmed down and Justin began again.

This time he removed the tie from Brian's robe and wrapped it loosely around his lover's cock, then slowly began stroking him with the silk material. It didn't take long for Brian to start to fidget, the feel of the silk driving him out of his mind as it caressed his shaft. "Yes," he muttered. "Oh God, yes. Yes. Don't stop don't stop..." Justin jacked his meat until his pisshole began to widen and then the teen once more released him and refused to bring him off.

Dizzy with desire and the need to come, Brian closed his eyes and allowed his mind to go blank. Justin had taken control of the situation and would do as he pleased. There was nothing he could do but to trust him.

His own cock hard, his balls filled with cum, Justin kept his mind off of his own urges by toying with Brian's. He knew how close Brian had been those two times and he intended to bring him even closer to the brink. Leaving the man panting on the bed, he searched through Brian's drawer until he unearthed the double-headed dildo. It was surprisingly flexible and soft to the touch. Experimenting, he found that it was capable of bending at all sorts of angles. Toy in hand, he grabbed the lube as well and returned to the bed.

Brian's erection had subsided a great deal although he was still stiff. Justin rubbed the dildo against the man's cock, then pressed between his cheeks eliciting a sigh. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes..." softly.

"I think we can have some fun with this."

Again, "Yes..."

Aware of the reversal in their positions, Justin asked, "What do you want me to do?"

And Brian replied without speaking: just raised his legs and caught them behind the knees, thighs spread apart.

Justin squeezed a generous amount of lube onto the dildo and spread it along the head and shaft, then he moistened Brian's hole with his fingers until it and the area around it glistened. The lips tensed and Justin rubbed them gently. "You gonna open up for your little boy?" Brian groaned. "Come on, let me open up your hole." He eased his finger inside and paused, then withdrew it partway and penetrated him once more. Once he was able to freely slide his finger in and out he removed it and placed the head of the dildo against Brian's relaxed hole. "I'm gonna make you feel so good." He rotated the head against Brian's lips. "I'm gonna make you scream." He pushed hard and felt Brian's hole give as the head passed through the first ring of muscle. Justin couldn't believe how incredible it felt to watch the dildo disappear inside of Brian, to feel it sliding through his asshole.

When he'd purchased the dildo, he'd thought arrogantly that he'd use it to pleasure Justin and yet here he was, on his back, whimpering while Justin fucked his hole with eight of the toy's eighteen inches. The teen had even changed positions so that he could suck Brian's cock as well. Brian didn't know how much more of this he could stand but he fought to keep the edge from his voice, to keep Justin from knowing just how close he was.

Only Justin knew. Giving Brian a final thrust, a last lick, he pulled away, leaving the dildo inside him, and refused to finish the job once more. Moaning in desperation, the man released his legs and made for his cock but Justin caught his hands and prevented him from touching his aching organ. "No. Not yet."

"Oh God..." whispered Brian. "Please..."

Eyes fixed on Brian's, Justin replied, "Not yet." He released Brian's hands. "Get ready," he told him. "Are you ready?" Brian nodded. Justin sat between Brian's legs, took hold of the dildo and lubed it again. Then he laid back, raised one leg, and pushed the free head into his own hole. Slowly he fed the other end of the dildo inside his ass, moving closer and closer to Brian as he did so. When he was done, their asses were only inches apart and their legs were entwined. With controlled motions they fucked themselves on the dildo, Justin's hand in the middle to keep it steady, slippery with lube. He brushed his fingers against Brian's hole and was rewarded with a cry. Risking a touch, he checked Brian's cock and balls, his lover was as hard as he was and dripping wet. He returned to the dildo, gripped it firmly, and withdrew.

"Turn over," he told Brian an the man did so, the dildo hanging down between his thighs, the part inside him shifting as he moved. "Get on your knees," and this time he held the dildo in place while Brian assumed the position. Bending the dildo so that the half in his hand was angled towards the bed to accommodate the differences in height, Justin again fed the rubber cock into his ass and backed up until they were almost touching. This time he let Brian set the pace and determine the nature of their fucking. The man thrust his hips back towards him hard, forcing the dildo to slid further inside of Justin. Meeting his thrusts, Justin could feel the dildo moving between them, giving first one an extra bit and then the other. Despite his desire to remain in control of the situation he couldn't help but grunt and groin as he got reamed. Fuck, it felt so good, so... Jesus... He needed... more.

Brian lowered his chest to the bed, ass high in the air, as Justin got to his feet, crouched over him and began driving his hips backwards furiously. He was almost seated on Brian's ass. The man could hardly breathe, he was being fucked so intensely by Justin and the dildo. He reached for his cock and heard a sharp, "No!" and almost wept. The delicious movement stopped. The weight on his hips lessened as Justin stood, the dildo sliding out of his asshole. Without being told he turned over and lay panting, cock hard and wet and wanting to be touched, His nuts felt like they were twisted in a knot.

"Kneel," Justin told him and he did, knelt on the bed and waited. Justin eased part of the dildo out of him and bent it so that the other end stood up in front of Brian. Then he lowered himself onto the slippery length so that they were facing one another. Without being told, Brian grabbed him and kissed him, sensing that this would be the final leg of their journey. He was right. Justin didn't think he could put off coming any longer. He felt Brian's hand around his cock, jerking him hard, ensuring that he would not put an end to activities this go round. Asshole tightening around the dildo, Justin cried out and sprayed Brian's belly with cum. Over and over again he pumped juice onto his lover's skin until Brian was soaked and he was exhausted. But they weren't through.

Justin pulled the dildo from his ass and lowered his head, licking Brian's balls while twisting the dildo in his hole. Brian grabbed his cock and pulled, shouting as the first spurt splashed Justin's face and hair. His hand continued to slide up and down the shaft as stream after stream of spunk splattered Justin's shoulder and neck. He didn't think he had ever come as hard or as much as tonight. Shuddering, he watched the last few drops of cum fall upon his fist to drip down from his knuckles like streamers. 

 

Rummaging through his belongings, Brian hunted for his lighter but couldn't find it. He'd been good about not smoking the entire trip but he really wanted a cigarette right at this moment and, "Goddamn it," he couldn't find his lighter.

Justin noticed him grumbling and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"My lighter."

"I think you left it in Pittsburgh," he replied.

Brian held up a pack of cigarettes. "Then why the hell did I bring these?" Justin shrugged and got out of bed. Opened his backpack. "Why would my lighter be in your bag?"

"It's not." Then he corrected himself. "Least not your old lighter." He handed Brian the object he'd removed from his book bag. "Here. I hope you like it. I got it on Bay Street."

It was a brushed chrome Zippo lighter with the Jim Beam Sour Mash emblem embossed on the surface. Brian smiled slightly. It really was quite elegant in a mass market kind of way. Flipping the top he started to light his cigarette then remembered he couldn't smoke in the room. He started for the balcony, paused, and kissed Justin on the cheek. "Thanks."

Justin fingered the gold chain around his waist, debated returning to bed, then decided to join him. Wait until he gave him the sterling silver cigarette case... 

 

 _I can't believe we leave tomorrow. It's like we just got here. I think Brian's asleep, if not he's being really quiet. I can tell he doesn't want to go home either. I wish we could stay here forever, I wish--but there's no point in wishing because tomorrow at 3:30 we're boarding the plane and we're going back to glorious Pittsburgh. And then everything is going to change. I can't believe how close I feel to him right now, even though he's in the other room and asleep, I feel like he's right next to me. I don't want that to change, but it will. There's no way we can stay like this once we get back. I just know it. I almost wish--No, I don't, I won't even write it because it's not true. I guess I should go to bed now, there's no holding back the dawn._

 

Brian felt for Justin but the teenager wasn't beside him and the bed was cool where he had lain during the night. Throwing back the covers, he went in search of the young man. Found him standing on the balcony looking out into the darkness. They'd planned to get up in time for the sunrise but they had another half hour at least before the sun would make an appearance. Brian went up behind Justin and wrapped his arms around him, rested his chin on the teenager's head. Justin didn't respond. Worried, Brian asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Brian decided that, for once, he'd take Justin at his word so he started to leave but Justin caught hold of his hand and wouldn't let go. Kissed his fingers and Brian felt a tear fall upon his skin. "Talk to me," he said cupping his palm around Justin's jaw.

"I don't want to leave."

Brian laughed. "Me neither. But if I don't show up at work Monday morning, Ryder's gonna chew my ass off. And I don't have a surplus like you do."

Justin laughed despite the sadness. "Fuck you."

"I love your smile."

And the easy way he said it only convinced Justin that he was right, that it was this place. "Everything is gonna to change when we get back."

"No. It won't."

"Yes, it will. You'll have work and I'll have school--"

"Not for a couple of months." He squeezed Justin. "Nothing's going to change between us," he said and he watched Justin for any sign that would tell him the teen believed him. He knew Justin wanted to believe him, wanted that more than anything. And he saw him close his eyes for a moment, then open them, and Brian knew that he'd made a decision: he would trust Brian.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Colin arrived about twenty minutes later with their breakfast and they took it out onto the balcony, as they had almost every morning of their trip, and watched the sun rise while sipping Strawberry Mimosas.

With sunrise came tasks: gathering up their belongings and making sure they'd packed everything which was difficult because they still had to shower and dress. Somehow they managed to account for everything.

Having spent most of the night making love, they shied away from the act this morning. Not because they were exhausted but because they both felt, without sharing their feelings, that to do so would have an air of finality about it, as if their lives had begun and ended on the island.

Taking a leisurely shower together, they dressed and finished packing the rest of their toiletries, then zipped and locked their suitcases. As their flight didn't leave until the afternoon, they planned on going into Nassau to do some last minute shopping and to have lunch prior to returning to the hotel to pick up their luggage and depart for the airport.

They checked out of the hotel, saying hello and goodbye to Henry who had come on duty. Justin had left thank you notes upstairs in their room as the hotel didn't permit tipping. "I hope to see you again," Henry said and they returned the sentiment.

Their luggage they left with the concierge in the main hotel lobby. When they returned after lunch, a limousine would take them to the airport.

The trip along the "Go Slow Bend" into town was a little sad this morning but the beautiful scenery and the sunshine managed to bring a smile to both their faces. Beginning in the Straw Market and working their way down Bay Street, the two men picked up a couple of additional gifts for their friends and family--nothing much, just things they'd seen a day or two earlier that stuck in their minds. Brian groaned, thinking about opening the suitcases again and packing these gifts away as well but Justin solved the problem: he bought a carry-on bag for the gifts, saying he needed one anyway.

Having enjoyed their meal at the Prince George Rooftop Cafe, they returned there for lunch, taking delight in the fresh air that blew over the rooftop and the sight of the ships in the harbor. Then Justin checked his watch and announced that it was time to go. 

 

He'd promised himself that he wouldn't look back, that once the plane took off from the runway, he'd concentrate on the future. But for one brief moment, he glanced out of the window at the beautiful blue water, the colorful flowers and buildings, the green trees and plants, the tan beaches and then he closed the shade on the window and laid his head back against the seat. Gently, he felt Brian's hand cover his own and he smiled, turned his hand over and laced his fingers with Brian's.

As on the trip down, they dozed off on the return flight and only woke when the plane began its descent into the airport. Neither one of them moved to open the window shade, they'd see the city soon enough. 

 

Michael met them at the gate and hugged them both. "You guys look great."

"Thanks." Looking at Michael, he told himself not to forget to send David his gift: the dolphin carved from coral.

Justin remained silent.

"You must be exhausted." Michael grabbed Justin's carry-on bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Come on, we'll get your stuff and I'll take you home."

Home. Just thinking about the loft, about his three nearly-full drawers, made Justin smile a little. Home. 

 

True to his word, Michael hadn't stayed long. Only helped them take their bags into the apartment and then he took off for Deb's to let her know they'd arrived safe. Justin called his mom and spoke briefly with her, promising to come by the house tomorrow.

Brian unlocked the suitcases and laid them on the bed. Then changed his mind and put them on the floor. He dropped onto the bed himself and stretched out. God, he'd missed this bed and hadn't even realized it. Justin appeared in the doorway.

"You act like you're still on vacation."

"I am," Brian replied. "Until nine o'clock tomorrow morning. So how about you put on that CD you bought and I'll fix us a couple of margaritas and we can lie here on the bed and pretend we're on the beach."

Justin crouched down by his carry-on bag. "You're on."

So they did. All evening they lay on the bed and sipped margaritas. After one too many they got slightly tipsy and began dancing on the bed. Hungry after their exertions they ordered in and had dinner on the bed. And then they slipped out of their clothes and made love. In their bed.

When morning arrived, Brian cut off the alarm--a sound he hadn't heard for a week--showered, dressed, and drank a cup of the coffee Justin had gotten up and prepared. He gathered his papers and the gifts he'd bought for Ryder and Cynthia, and found his car keys, and slipped his new lighter in his coat pocket. "You'll be here when I get back?" he asked and Justin stood on his tiptoes and kissed him, his blue silk robe sliding down over his shoulders, his gold waist chain winking from beneath the cloth.

"Where else would I be?"

No time for playing, Brian cupped Justin's cheeks in his hands and stroked the tops of them, slid his hand over the teen's belly and gently tugged on the chain. They'd both be counting the hours until he returned. Releasing him, he picked up his briefcase and pulled open the door. Before he stepped out of the apartment, he turned and smiled. "It's not so bad, huh? Being home."

Justin shook his head, still feeling Brian's hands on his skin. It wasn't bad at all. 

 

 **Note:** Title taken from "I. ERMINE ABBANDONATA",  The Poems: Volume 1. Dramatic Scenes and Fragments, 1851, Thomas Lovell Beddoes, lines 32-33:

And spun me sunshine to delight my eyes,--   
Carried my cities, and did make me summer


	7. What Dada Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Old Pitt campaign is tanking, Ryder's on the warpath, and Justin pays Brian an unexpected visit. Sort of a sequel to Happy Worker.

Throwing down the latest copy for the Old Pitt campaign, Brian sighed aloud. What was the point in trying to sell that shit? He'd give Old Pitt a million dollars if they'd pull that swill off the market. His phone buzzed. "Yeah."

"Your eleven thirty is here."

"What?" He couldn't believe it. "You didn't say anything about an eleven thirty appointment this morning."

"It just came up," Cynthia said and he could swear she was grinning on the other end of the line.

"Bitch," he growled and dropped the phone, straightened his desk and tried to figure out who it could be. Probably that putz from Old Pitt. Well, he didn't have to worry, he wasn't after his ass anymore. He smiled. He had all the ass he could handle.

And then in walked his eleven thirty appointment. Without knocking. Swinging a picnic basket in his hand.

Justin sauntered over, wearing a red and white hooded jersey. He set the hamper down on top of Brian's papers. Went and locked the door, closed all the blinds, then returned and leaned over the desk and smiled. "Ready for lunch?"

"Depends on what you've got in your basket."

Justin stood. "Let's see." He took hold of the zipper on his jeans. Brian's lids lowered partway over his eyes as he watched Justin's hand slowly descend. It seemed to take forever and by the time the teen had completely unzipped his jeans, Brian's cock was stiffening inside his briefs.

Justin reached inside his pants and cupped his crotch, rubbed the mound of his dick. Brian's eyes never left his groin. Removing his hand, the teen walked around and stood between Brian and his desk. Dropped his jeans to the floor and stepped out of them. Brian reclined in his chair, poised to enjoy the show, entranced by the sight of the teen's cock nestled snugly in his white jockstrap. Placing one foot on the edge of Brian's seat, between his legs, Justin leaned back onto the desk and began stroking himself again. "See anything you want?" The shape beneath his jock expanded, thickened.

Brian moved forward in his chair and replied huskily, "Everything."

Separating his balls from his cock, the teen gave equal attention to both sac and prick, cupping his balls and squeezing them, jacking off his meat. Hands busy at his crotch, Justin asked, "Do all of your clients get such personalized service?"

"The lucky ones do." Sliding his chair forward, he pushed Justin's hands out of the way and opened his mouth around the bulge in his briefs. Justin gasped as Brian sucked on his cock through his underwear, palms cupped around his bare ass. Brian nipped him, giving his dick head and shaft little love bites until Justin began to moan deep in his throat. He licked his thighs, loving the taste of his skin but unable to stay away from the main attraction for long. The teen could feel Brian's teeth grazing his cock head even though it was protected beneath soft cotton. The man was growing dizzy, the feel of Justin's dick in his mouth combined with his scent making his head swim. Using his teeth, Brian drew Justin's jockstrap down around his hips, over his hard-on. Justin bit his lip waiting for Brian to take him inside his mouth but the ad exec pulled away and unzipped his own trousers. Stood and stripped off everything.

Spreading his thighs, Justin welcomed his lover, hands roaming over his muscular shoulders as they kissed. Brian lifted him, eased him onto his back. Pushed Justin's shirt up and nibbled on his tits. They stiffened in his mouth, as his tongue washed over the fat nubs repeatedly. He grabbed Justin's jock and used it to rub his cock. The teen gritted his teeth as the soft cotton buffed his sensitive skin. He could feel his dick growing larger under Brian's strokes. Not only that, but every now and then the man's fingers would slip down behind the cup and brush against his hole making his entire body throb. Finally, Brian released him and pulled the jock completely off. Justin's cock bobbed between his legs awaiting further stimulation. But Brian had other plans.

He moved to the black leather sofa and waited. He didn't have to do so for very long as Justin followed him post haste and climbed onto the sofa, standing with one leg pressed against the back. Taking hold of his cock, he fed it into Brian's open mouth, pushing a little harder than normal, nearly gagging the man in his eagerness. He withdrew and the next time was gentler yet just as insistent. The only sounds in the room were his heavy breathing and the sucking sound his cock made as it exited Brian's mouth. Soon his dick was covered in saliva and harder than he could have ever imagined. His balls, round and firm, slapped against Brian's chin each time he thrust into him. He couldn't believe Brian was allowing him to do this. It felt incredible, fucking Brian's head.

Each time the teen withdrew, he took a shallow breath in preparation for the next thrust. This was the first time he had ever permitted someone to do this to him, to fuck his head with abandon, and it was making his cock ache, he was so turned on. Wanting to taste him, to lick him a little longer, he grabbed Justin's ass and held him close the next time he drove his dick inside his mouth. Then, hungrily, he sucked on his meat, loving every moment, going wild over the taste, the texture of his lover's cock. His tongue sought out every bump, savored each ridge. With Justin's dick buried in his mouth, he lapped at his balls, wanting all of him, wanting him now. Above him, Justin began to whimper. He was so fucking hard. And what Brian was doing to him felt so good. Brian pulled away, freed his cock, then began licking up and down the turgid shaft, saliva smearing on his skin as Justin's dick rubbed against his face.

Justin couldn't stand it any longer, he wanted Brian's meat in him somehow, in his mouth, his ass, he didn't care, he just wanted it. Stepping down from the couch, he crouched at Brian's feet and took hold of his cock. Lapped at the head, his tongue encircling the broad cap, tracing the edge. He slid his lips along the length of Brian's prick until nearly the entire shaft was enclosed in his mouth. Brian sighed as the teen sucked him hard, his lips tight around him, tongue busy swirling about driving him crazy. Justin's hands scrabbled at his chest, nails raking over his tits causing him to hiss and gasp, twisting his torso to escape but not trying very hard cause the torture was only increasing his arousal. Letting Brian go, Justin used the tip of his tongue to lap at his cock, the organ bobbing between them, red and hungry. Brian cupped the back of Justin's head with one hand and used his free hand to rub his cock over the teen's swollen lips, making a game of Justin's attempts to entrap it. Jesus, each time Justin's tongue connected with his skin, he wanted to scream. He was so hot, so hard, so ready to fuck his tight hole. Grabbing the back of the sofa, he lifted one leg, draped it over the teen's shoulders, and Justin dove for his balls. He hissed between his teeth as his hot little boy lapped his scrotum until it was shiny. His balls began to draw up in their sac, and Justin sucked each one slowly, not intending to miss an inch.

Brian pulled Justin off his cock and licked his lips. Without being told, Justin rose and opened his basket. Removed the tube of lube and a couple of condoms. Grabbed Brian's tie as well. Returning to his lover, he dried off his cock with the tie and unrolled the condom over it. Handing Brian the lube, he turned around and bent over.

The sight of the teen's luscious bottom made him a little light-headed. It always did. Such a perfect ass, so pleasingly shaped, so firm. The skin creamy and smooth. And nestled there, in the center, was his hole. Wrinkled pink lips guarding the entrance to his insides. He dropped the lube on the seat beside him, took hold of Justin's ass, pressing his fingers into his flesh, and spread his hole open. Justin gave a little cry as Brian's tongue teased him. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the floor below him. He held onto his knees in an attempt to keep his balance but it was hard with Brian eating out his ass. Licking around and over the teen's hole, Brian breathed his pleasure against Justin's skin. The lips of his ass tightened then relaxed. Unsnapping the top on the lube, Brian wet his fingers, Then, with one hand on his left buttock, Brian eased a finger inside Justin's hole. The teenager gasped and screwed up his face as Brian's finger slid in and out of him, slowly at first but gradually increasing speed. When the second finger joined the first, he was ready to cry out but he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and fought the urge.

Brian kissed his ass as he continued to finger fuck him. He licked his cheeks and nibbled a little on them, the sharp nips in counterpoint to the smooth strokes. He loved the feel of Justin's hole around his fingers, so tight, so warm. Slippery with lube. And each time the teen whimpered a spasm gripped his balls and went straight up his cock. He couldn't hold out much longer. His dick yearned to be buried to the hilt. "I want to fuck you," he whispered against Justin's flank. "Ready for your ride?"

"Do it," Justin replied breathlessly. "Do me."

Giving him a few more strokes, Brian removed his fingers and slid his hands around Justin's waist. The teen backed up and straddled Brian's legs. Slowly lowered his ass onto his lover's rampant cock. He moaned as he was penetrated. Stopping halfway down his shaft, he took a deep breath and pushed again. This time he didn't stop until Brian was completely encased inside. Taking a moment to adjust, he rose up again and began fucking Brian's cock with his ass. Brian held onto him just at the juncture of his hip and pelvis with one hand and fanned the other over his chest, attempting to maintain a grip on the bouncing boy. He whispered in his ear, "Fuck me, fuck my dick. Fuck it. Tighten that hole. That's it. That's my little boy. I'm gonna fuck you so hard..." And Justin gave a long, low moan. Afraid that someone would hear him, Brian rolled his tie into a ball and pushed it into the teen's mouth.

Justin continued to writhe about in his arms, working his ass on and around Brian's dick. He bucked on his lap, impaled on his lover's cock, and clamped down on the tie in his mouth. God, it felt so good, having Brian's dick inside him, fucking every inch of his hole. Pumping his hips up and down, he forced his asshole along the length of Brian's shaft, feeling it expand impossibly inside him, wanting it to lengthen even more.

"Bounce on me, baby. Bounce," Brian hissed against his throat. Pushing Justin forward, he clamped down on the back of his neck and on one thigh as he thrust upwards into his moist, warm bowels. "You're so hot. I love your ass. I love fucking your ass," he hissed. Then they shifted positions again and he leaned back, Justin laying against him, still thrashing about as he rode his cock, the muscles in his thighs getting a workout, driving his ass down upon Brian's dick and back up again. "Yes," he breathed as Justin's asshole tightened around him. "Give me that ass. Give it to me. Mmmm." As Justin flailed about, eventually sitting almost crossways Brian's lap, the man latched onto his tit, sucking the ring and his flesh, making Justin moan even louder into the tie.

Every time he came to the end of a stroke, he could feel Brian's balls brush against his ass and it was sending shivers up his spine. It felt so good... He'd dreamt about it all morning as he bused tables at the diner on the early shift. All he'd wanted was to throw off his apron, toss his pad and pencil onto the counter, and run down to Brian's office. When his shift had finally ended, he'd made himself go home and gather the things he needed before taking off for downtown Pittsburgh. And this was his reward for being patient. He lowered his hand and grabbed his cock. Moaned into the tie as the new sensation went all through him like a chill. Brian, having noticed Justin's actions, reached around and took hold of the teen's dick. Began stroking it.

Justin's head lolled back and he laid his hand on Brian's arm while the man pulled on his meat. He didn't think he could last much longer. Sweat poured off of him and his throat felt parched. His legs ached from being spread open for so long and his asshole was beginning to feel raw but he didn't want it to end, he wanted to be fucked forever. But when Brian's fist closed around the head of his cock, and he felt the first spasm in his balls, he knew the end was near. He ground his ass into Brian's lap and began moving his hips rapidly. God, he couldn'tcouldn't hold out, couldn't--Brian jacked his shaft with one hand and used the other to pull on his nuts. Screaming into the wadded up tie, he felt the first gush of precum which wet Brian's fingers and provided extra lubrication. Brian's slippery hands continued their work and his dick throbbed. A spurt of cum struck his chest and began rolling down his skin. Then another. He cried out into the tie as his dick released stream after stream of creamy cum and his chest became streaked with it. Running his hand up and down his cock a few more times, Brian coaxed every drop from his balls. Then cupped the fat sac with his spunky hands and gently rubbed it. Justin slumped in his arms. The tie cascaded from his mouth like a silken waterfall.

The head and shaft a dark, angry red, Justin sat on Brian's belly and pumped his cock with piston-like efficiency, determined to make him blow his load. Slowing down, he squeezed the head and then drew his fingers back over the shaft, massaging the area just below the edge of the cap. He rubbed his fingertip over Brian's piss hole eliciting a groan and a surge of sticky precum which he spread over the head. "Come on, blow. Blow your top. I wanna see it. I wanna see you come. I want your hole to open so wide I can see down into your balls," he whispered and Brian inhaled sharply, Justin's hand having jacked him hard. His toes curled, trying to grip the carpet as Justin tugged on his dick and his asshole tightened. He laid his head against the back of the sofa and grimaced. If he didn't come soon Justin was gonna rip his--Justin closed his fingers around the base of his balls tightening the sac around them and he grunted and released a squirt of cum that fell back down upon his thighs. "That's it, baby," crooned Justin, "gimme all of it. All...of...it," and he continued to yank fountains of cum from his lover's cock until Brian collapsed below him in relief, drained and exhausted.

A few minutes later, having recovered enough to move, Brian very nearly crawled over to his desk and buzzed Cynthia. "Hold all my calls and cancel whatever else I've got today. I'm going to have to work with my eleven thirty appointment all afternoon." Justin took the phone from him and hung it up. He kissed the teen hard and laid him on the floor, spreading his thighs with his knee. Justin's rosy-colored hole winked at him and he lowered his head. The things he did to please his clients... 

 

He was right in the middle of licking cream cheese from Justin's belly button when the phone buzzed. "Shit," he grumbled, releasing the teen and answering Cynthia's summons. "What?"

"Ryder's coming to see you."

"Fuck." He signaled to Justin to get up. "Stall him."

"For how long?" she asked.

"Forever," he replied. "But I'll take ten minutes."

"I don't know..." she began.

"Just do it and I'll owe you. Big time," he added, hanging up the phone. "Get dressed. Now." They scrambled to find their clothes, painfully aware that it didn't really matter if they were dressed or not, a blind man could tell they'd been fucking for the past two hours. But, by the time Ryder knocked on the door--five minutes later--they, at least, were presentable. And the cum stains on the couch had been wiped clean. Of course, the smell of sex hung in the air like a smoky cloud. And where there was smoke, there had definitely been fire. Even now Brian's dick pressed against his trousers. And Justin...Justin had this look on his face like he'd been in an opium den: sleepy-eyed, face and neck flushed... Brian couldn't begin to imagine the tongue-lashing he was going to get when Ryder got him alone.

Marty stepped into Brian's office and immediately wished Cynthia had succeeded in getting him to postpone his visit. He hadn't bought her excuse for a minute that Brian had been in the middle of a creative onslaught and was furiously working on the Old Pitt account but he hadn't expected his top account exec to be in the middle of an afternoon tryst with his teenaged lover.

To his credit, Justin stayed on the sofa and tried to make himself invisible. If Brian ever wished super powers existed like in Mikey's comic books, it was now. Not only would Justin benefit from invisibility but he wished he were invulnerable because Ryder looked pissed enough to empty a clip in him. "Marty." Should he say something about Justin or let it go? Well, it wasn't like Ryder hadn't seen him. "You remember Justin."

"Of course," Ryder said, not daring to look around at the teenager. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" He turned and paused. "In my office."

"Sure." Brian waited until Marty had left then cursed. "Fuck." Closed his eyes. "I am so fucked."

Justin grimaced. "Sorry."

"Maybe you should go home," Brian suggested. Greatly subdued, Justin gathered his things and packed them away in the basket. Just before he left, Brian peeled himself out of his chair and kissed him gently on the lips. "I'm not angry with you."

Instantly cheered, Justin asked, "What do you want for dinner?"

Thinking about his impending meeting with Ryder, he replied, "A new asshole." 

 

As he sat across from Ryder, aware of the man's anger and disappointment, Brian tried to come up with something that would put a positive spin on the situation but he couldn't. So he said nothing.

"Old Pitt is thinking about pulling the campaign," Ryder said at last. "They're not convinced it's working."

"It isn't working," Brian agreed, "because no ad campaign in the world can convince someone to drink piss if what they really want is beer."

Ryder took a deep breath. "Maybe if you spent more time on the campaign and less time fucking your boyfriend..."

A hot flash went all over Brian and he replied, "I could work on that goddamn campaign morning, noon, and night--and, believe me, it feels like I have--and it wouldn't do any good. Their product sucks."

"We told them we could sell it."

Angry that his commitment had been called into question, Brian replied, "Well, we were wrong."

"Well," Ryder retorted, "I've asked them to give us another quarter to turn things around."

Glancing up at the ceiling to give himself a moment, Brian asked, "Are you giving the account to someone else then?"

"No." Marty fixed him with a glare. "This is your baby, you take care of it."

Brian bit back his first response and stood. "Fine."

"I want you to put together a new strategy by next week. We're taking a meeting with the sales rep on Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" Brian asked incredulously. "That only gives me one more day this week and two next week."

"You have the weekend," Marty pointed out to him.

Saying nothing, Brian made for the door.

"One other thing." Brian paused. "This is a place of business. If he wants us to come up with an ad campaign for him, tell him to make an appointment and we'll set up a meeting. Otherwise, keep him out of your goddamn office." 

 

Hours later he was still steaming. He barely tasted the food on the plate before him, he was so busy recounting all of his grievances against Ryder. Silently. On the surface he seemed calm. Of course, he had to be. Justin had invited Mel and Lindz over to the loft for dinner. Gus crawled around on the floor at their feet and he was constantly looking down to make sure the baby was safe.

"Brian?"

He looked up. Thought that Lindsay had spoken. "What?"

"I asked you if you could watch the baby this weekend."

"No."

"So much for wanting to be a part of his life," Melanie said accusingly.

"I have to work," he replied and that did it. He pushed away from the table and picked Gus up, stalked into the living room.

Mel and Lindz turned to Justin. "I kind of got him in trouble with his boss."

"It wasn't you," Brian said. He returned to the dining area and leaned against the counter with Gus in his arms. "It was just bad timing." He moved his head as Gus tried to stuff his fist in his mouth. "And I do have to work this weekend. I should have stayed late tonight but--I promised Justin I would do this. So get off my case." With that he pushed away from the counter and carried Gus to the bedroom.

Lindz waited until Brian had disappeared behind the opaque glass walls to lean over and whisper, "What happened?"

"I paid him an office visit," Justin replied, his face having gone red.

Mel laughed, understanding immediately. "And Ryder caught you."

"Almost. Cynthia warned us but he knew what was going on."

Covering her face briefly, Lindsay shook her head. "You two."

"I can watch Gus if you want," he volunteered. "Brian'll probably be at the office all weekend and I can keep him here."

Lindz and Mel glanced at each other to see if they were in agreement. Then Mel replied, "We owe you."

Hearing Gus gurgling and giggling and his Dadda laughing, Lindz caught Justin's eye and added, "We owe you a lot," and he knew she was talking about more than babysitting. 

 

After they'd gone, taking the baby with them and promising to return with him early tomorrow, Justin loaded the dishwasher and tried to keep quiet as Brian sat at his desk and scribbled some notes on a legal pad. Sitting at the table, he sketched a little while listening for any clue that Brian might be ready to put his work away and go to bed. But as the clock counted the minutes to midnight, the ad exec showed no signs of stopping. One o'clock came and went and now two was just around the corner. Justin wondered how badly he would get reamed if he tried to get him to go to sleep. And then Brian stopped, laid down his pencil, and stretched. Seemed to see Justin for the first time in hours. "Why are you still up?" he asked.

Justin shrugged. "Waiting for you."

"I'll be at this for another hour or so. Go on without me."

"When are you going into the office?"

Brian shook his head. "I don't know. Around eight, I guess."

Taking a chance, Justin suggested, "Come to bed. You can't stay up all night and then work all day tomorrow."

On the verge of arguing, Brian suddenly felt a yawn building up inside. Released it and rubbed his face. "Nothing's coming anyway." He stood and cut off the lights in the living room. Justin went around and did the same in the rest of the loft and met him at the doorway to the bedroom. Brian slipped his arm around his waist and kissed him softly. "Thanks." 

 

Morning came too soon and Brian stumbled from bed and took a shower while Justin put on the coffee and toasted a couple of bagels. By the time Brian emerged from his shower looking just as tired as he had when he'd gone in, Justin was spreading veggie cream cheese on the bagels and pouring a couple glasses of guava juice. Throwing on a pair of black and grey pinstriped Kenneth Cole pants and a maroon tricot shirt, Brian came into the kitchen. Grabbed the carafe of coffee and carried it and the mugs to the table. Went back for the sugar and cream. Justin followed with the rest of their meal and they ate together, neither of them saying very much, just enjoying a half hour of peace. Finally, with the dregs of the coffee staining the bottom of his cup, Brian stood and gathered his notes from the previous night, shoved them into his briefcase, and found his coat. Justin rubbed his back and leaned against his arm. "Tell Gus I'll see him when I get back."

" 'kay."

They kissed and Justin watched him pull up the door to the elevator, close it again, and punch the button for the first floor. 

 

Wishing he were anywhere but here, Brian sat hunched over his desk racking his brains for a new angle on the Old Pitt campaign. Sex hadn't sold the beer so he needed something else, needed to take it in a different direction. He would have called Bob and Brad in but they were next to useless in a crunch. As a matter of fact they were next to useless period. Fuck. Justin was a better advertiser than those two and he'd never done it. Christ. Now that he'd thought about Justin he found himself unable to concentrate on his work, imagining the fun Gus was probably having with the teenager. "Wish I could be there," he whispered and threw down his pencil. He could see the baby with Justin, sitting on his lap as the teen showed him one of his drawings or read a story to him or just talked to him. Justin was really good with Gus. And, even though he had never told him so, Brian thought he never looked sexier than when he was with Gus, his love for the baby suffusing his features with a joy that caused him to glow. He smiled, remembering one afternoon they had spent together, all three of them laughing on the bed, the baby ecstatic to be with his Dadda and Justin. Brian wondered what the baby made of them. Wondered what to make of them himself. It made him laugh and it scared him, how much he had come to love Justin, to need him...just--to breathe sometimes.

He'd picked up the phone before he realized what he'd done. Put it back down. They'd still be there when he got home. Right now he needed to concentrate, needed to come up with a new concept to save the Old Pitt campaign--and his position in the firm, cause that's what this really boiled down to: him being the best or being an also-ran, a has-been. He didn't doubt that Ryder had his eye on some young, new hotshot desperate for a chance to show the partners that he or she had what it took to make it. He remembered being that young hotshot himself once upon a time. Remembered when the prospect of spending a weekend at work wouldn't have meant shit to him. He'd have done it and gone out Saturday and Sunday night, got up on Monday morning and gone into work and not bitched a moment about all the time he'd put in. He'd been hungry back then. And now...now he missed his lover and his son and he wished to hell he could be with them rather than sitting alone in the tasteful office that he'd worked so hard to attain.

Rubbing his eyes, he refocused his attention on the notes in front of him, but he didn't see them. He saw, instead, Justin sitting on the bed with Gus in his arms, his blond head bent over the baby's darker one. God, things had changed. He blinked. Change. Things had changed... What was it about change? He'd once told Justin that he hated needless change but the truth was he really hated change of any kind. He was a creature of habit and his habits had served him well until he'd met a certain blond-headed twink outside of Babylon. Who would have ever thought he'd be able to alter those habits to the point that he found himself in a relationship? Again, after having sworn he'd never do so. He guessed if he could change anyone could. And look at what he had gained. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. He glanced at his notepad. Maybe change wasn't... Suddenly he began scribbling at a furious pace. He had it. Fuck Ryder and fuck the young hotshots waiting for his spot on top of the heap. He grinned. Fuck 'em all. 

 

Justin glanced up to see Brian coming through the door. "I thought you wouldn't be back until late."

Laying his briefcase down on the desk, Brian came and took Gus from Justin, kissed the baby, then leaned over and kissed his other little boy. "I finished early."

Not believing that Brian was completely done, Justin asked, "But you're going in tomorrow, right?"

"Wrong." Brian beamed at Gus. "Hey, Sonny Boy, how about you and me and the Boy Wonder spend Sunday together? Would you like that?"

"You mean you're done?"

"Yep." He smiled at the look of astonishment on Justin's face. And then the look of disbelief was replaced by one of simple pleasure.

Justin stood and said to Gus, "Your Dada's a genius, did you know that?"

With a shit-eating grin on his face, Brian amended that, "Advertising God."

Kissing the man briefly, Justin shook his head. "You're something else." 

 

So the next day they got up early to feed Gus then lounged around drinking coffee and watching Cartoon Network, the bright colors and crazy sounds appealing to the younger set. Brian closed his eyes and tried to ignore it and to steal some additional sleep before the day officially began. As usual, Justin already had it planned down to the microsecond. Maybe, Brian thought, if he tried really hard he could convince the teen to spend a quiet day at home. At that moment Justin and the baby shrieked. Okay, maybe a not-so-quiet day.

But they didn't stay in, instead they got dressed, got the baby ready, and went in search of brunch. Settled on a bookstore with a cafe in the back. Snagged a table outside where there was a slight breeze and Gus could people watch. Of course, what really sold them on the cafe was the fact that all of the brunch items were served with Strawberry Mimosas. Beneath the shade of an umbrella, sipping their drinks, they could almost imagine they were back in the Bahamas. "Next time we'll have to take Gus," Justin said. "He'd love parasailing," he teased.

Brian replied, "My kid's smart enough to keep his ass on the ground where it belongs."

"I bet my ass looked pretty good from where you were standing."

Remembering the sight, Brian declared it to have been, "Fuckably delicious," and Justin shivered. 

 

After brunch they took a stroll through the park and Justin strapped on the baby carrier and swung on the swings while Gus gurgled in delight. Brian, in a rare show of playfulness, got in the one next to them, although his legs were way too long and all he could really do was rock back and forth. Still, Gus loved it and would reach out his hand to his Dadda.

"You think he knows that you're his dad?" Justin asked and Brian shrugged.

"Who knows what kids think? I hardly know what you're thinking from one moment to the next."

"That's because I'm complex."

"I think the legal term is insane."

Glancing around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard, Justin replied, "Cock happy."

Brian laughed. "You're a bad influence on Sonny Boy."

"You're a bad influence on me," he said and moved his swing closer to Brian's, close enough to kiss. Which they did. Then parted. Goofy smiles on their faces. "Can you imagine going to Gus' class on Career Day?"

"I do have a career, you know."

Justin grinned. "I forgot: Advertising God. You can take Gus to the office with you on Take Your Son to Work Day and show him all the things Cynthia does for you."

"Like gossiping and doing her personal email and sending out letter with typos"

"And getting you coffee and making sure you get to your meetings on time and that you don't look hungover when you are hungover..." Besides Cynthia saving their asses on Friday, Justin felt grateful to her for a number of reasons: she'd been one of the few people to talk to him at Ryder's party, she'd sent flowers to the hospital while he was recovering, and she'd taken him out to lunch at this really trendy spot once he'd been released.

Brian stood. "I think this calls for a field trip."

"To where?"

"To the office. And Gus can see where Dada works to make lots of money so he can write those oh so generous checks to Mommy."

And off they went. Piled into the Jeep and burned rubber getting to downtown Pittsburgh. Pulled into the parking garage and into his assigned space. "One day it'll have my name on it," he announced. Then they took the elevator up to the twentieth floor where his office was located. The firm itself actually occupied three floors, with the executive offices on the uppermost floor and the other employees' offices arranged by rank. Brian liked where his office was located, near the elevator for quick getaways and far enough from the main executive suites that he had some privacy.

The proud papa carried his son inside and showed him his awards, "This means your Dada is better at his job than anyone else;" and the sofa, "This is where Dada and Justin--" Justin covered his mouth before he could finish his sentence and Brian laughed. He sat in his chair and placed the baby on the desk. "And this is Dada's desk where he--" and he heard a sound and stopped. Frowned. "No one's supposed to be here." Handing Gus to Justin and telling him to stay put, Brian went to investigate.

The noise sounded like it was coming from Ryder's office but why would Ryder be here on a Sunday? He hadn't pulled a weekend in years. That's what staff were for. As he neared the suite he could hear voices. One of them was definitely Marty. He could see that the door was open and he knocked on the frame as he walked inside.

At his entrance, Ryder and Darren Johnson looked up guiltily. Brian crossed to where they were seated around a table. "What are you doing here?"

"Just going over some--" began Ryder.

Brian glanced at their papers. It was a mock-up and copy for an Old Pitt ad. And not one that was part of the current campaign. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"That's an ad for Old Pitt. A new ad." Comprehension dawned. "I thought this was my baby and I was supposed to look after it."

"It is."

"Then what's this about?"

"Insurance."

"Insurance?" Brian pressed his lips together in an effort not to explode. "I've worked here how long? And how many times have I ever fallen down on the job?"

Coolly, Ryder answered, "What about the Telson account?"

Having had his nose rubbed in that all year Brian replied, "We didn't get that account because I wouldn't put out."

The shock of his answer caused Johnson's eyes to widen and he'd spoken before he had a chance to clamp down on the urge. "What?"

Gaze fixed on his boss, Brian explained. "He said he was attracted to me. Invited me to his hotel room."

"Did you go?" asked Marty.

"Your exact words were, 'I don't care what you have to do, just make sure where he wants to go is with us.' " He watched as Ryder's face froze. "But his wife called about their kid. Said she'd broken her arm. So I left."

"But he didn't want you to." Marty looked away. "Why? Why'd you leave?"

"Maybe I realized that there were some things even I wouldn't do for an account." That said, he headed for the door.

Ryder tried to explain, "Brian--"

"Save it. You're a partner, you can do whatever the fuck you want. You wanna spend Sunday here with Darren, that's up to you. I've got better things to do with my day."

Angry that his effort to make peace had been rebuffed, Ryder asked, "It's obvious one of them isn't working on the Old Pitt account, so what are you doing here?"

Brian paused as he was walking out of the door. "I brought my son by to see where I worked."

Ryder nearly choked and he wasn't eating or drinking anything. "Your son?"

"Yeah," replied Brian, "my son. Gotta go. He's waiting for me." As a parting shot, he added, "With Justin."

The sound of the door shutting was nothing compared to the sound of Ryder's jaw hitting the table. Even Darren Johnson was smart enough to realize that the lines had been drawn and that something had just happened which no one would have predicted ever happening: Ryder and his protege were on opposite sides of the table. 

 

By the time they reached the restaurant, Brian had calmed down considerably. Securing a high chair for Gus, he settled the baby in and charmed the waitress into heating his bottle so Sonny Boy could eat while they did. Although he had managed to put a lid on his anger, he hadn't forgotten the incident by a long shot but he tried to keep cool about it.

"So what are you going to do?" Justin asked, unable to let it go.

"About what?" A subtle hint that went unheeded.

"About Ryder's ad."

"He's a partner, he can do what he wants."

Justin lifted an eyebrow and looked sideways at Brian. He wasn't fooled for a minute. Brian would never let something like that go unless he was feeling mighty confident. "Your ad must be pretty good."

"It is."

"Better than Ryder's?"

Brian tore off a piece of focaccia and chewed it. Swallowed. Then said, "I didn't get a good look at it."

"Liar," Justin grinned. "Is your ad better than his?"

"Fuck yeah," Brian replied and he turned to Gus. "Don't tell your mom I said that." The baby gurgled, just happy to be with his Dadda and the two men laughed, just happy to be together and with the tiny tot. 

 

Brian got wind of the Tuesday meeting Ryder had set up with the people from Old Pitt via Cynthia and the grapevine. There was talk that two of the other partners were upset with Ryder for his unprecedented move. The third partner kept silent. Which meant he really disapproved. Brian followed his wise example. He had brought in a lot of business during the years he'd worked for them and they knew his worth. If Ryder wanted to second-guess him, let him. Especially with a talentless schmuck like Darren Johnson.

Working steadily with the photographer and the people in artwork to finish his mock-up, Brian pretended he wasn't even aware of a competing proposal. Or, at the very least, not concerned about it. Then Cynthia came to him in the late afternoon and reported that the sales reps from Old Pitt had really liked Ryder's idea. Falling back on years of practice, he maintained an air of indifference. "That has nothing to do with me. My meeting is tomorrow." Packing his briefcase, he grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.

Cynthia watched as he strode to the elevator, cool as an October evening. That's why he was the best: grace under pressure, an indomitable spirit, and an irreproducible style.

Safely alone inside the elevator, Brian allowed himself to slump against the reflective surface. Glancing at the opposite wall, he saw his image, distorted in the metal. 

 

Careful not to reveal any of his doubts to Justin, Brian spent a quiet evening at Deb's with the teen, then headed home, Justin in tow. He'd been unable to tell him outright not to come but once they reached the loft it became clear to Justin that Brian was in no mood for sex. Gently rebuffing any of Justin's attempts at foreplay, he stripped and crawled into bed. After a moment, so did Justin. He snuggled up against the man's side and nestled his head against his chest.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Just tired."

Although he didn't quite buy the excuse, Justin let it pass and contented himself with the feel of Brian's skin against his own. In a little while, Brian turned over and, reluctantly, Justin made to move to his side of the bed. Only, Brian reached back and stopped him. Smiling softly, the teen wrapped his arm around his lover's waist. 

 

Scanning the faces of the people around the table, Brian imagined them naked and almost laughed out loud because he remembered telling Justin his secret--while the teen had sat naked and cross-legged awaiting Brian's advice about selling the Gay Straight Student Alliance. He hoped he had better luck with Old Pitt than he'd had with that venture. Of course, it hadn't been his fault the campaign failed. But it would be his fault if this campaign didn't take off like the fuckin' space shuttle. He remembered standing in front of the room the last time he'd come up with a campaign for Old Pitt, how cocky and self-assured he'd been. Well, he wasn't any less cocky and self-assured this time around cause he knew he had the goods. And he didn't mean in his pants either. As an added measure, Old Pitt had sent around two total breeders who wouldn't be tempted by him. He smirked to himself. Well...so they thought. He wasn't completely convinced there wasn't a guy in the world, straight or gay, that he couldn't have creaming his shorts in under two minutes flat. But he didn't need sex appeal to sell this campaign. This one would sell itself.

At a signal from Ryder, he stepped up to the easel and removed the cover sheet to reveal a mock-up of his new ad concept. A good-looking young man in his late twenties sat on a bed holding a baby. Golden sunlight streamed through the window behind them. He was showing the baby pictures. Lying near him on the bed was a photo album entitled, "Our Honeymoon." There were boxes in the room as if they had either just moved into the house or were moving out of the house. You could see the back of another person going into the adjoining bathroom but you couldn't tell if it was a woman or another man. On the nightstand next to the bed was a bottle of Old Pitt beer. And the copy read, "For the man who's unafraid of change. Old Pitt Beer."

"Today's young, urban professional is much more interested in stock options and mortgages," he said, "than in hanging out at the bars on Saturday night with his buds, eyeing half-naked women. So we appeal to that set. We present the stresses in their lives as something positive, something desirable: the baby, the beautiful house, the mate, all of those things in the best possible light. Literally. And to cap it off, Old Pitt Beer. To go along with their new lifestyle. A change from the beer they drank as party boys, this is a beer for the men they've become. We can tailor the ad for women and shoot it in a number of settings both inside and outside of the home. But basically the message will remain the same: Change is good. That's what this ad says. Change is desirable. Change to Old Pitt." His spiel finished, Brian glanced around the table at the other members of his team and at the sales reps.

The older man studied the mock-up and nodded. "I like it. Much better than the other ad. I think our people are going to go for it."

From her spot on the left hand side of the table, Cynthia gave him the thumbs up. He'd done it again.

The sales rep stood. "I'll let you know...this afternoon?"

"That'll be perfect," Ryder replied and he and the two men from Old Pitt left the room.

As the rest of the people in attendance filed out, Brian released the breath he'd been holding ever since he'd finished speaking and he wondered what would happen if one day he couldn't pull it off. Fuck it, he thought. _All that matters is that I did pull it off today._ He grinned to himself. I deserve a bonus. 

 

A bouquet of Osiana roses was waiting for him at Deb's when he got off his shift at the diner. Showering and changing his clothes, he took the flowers with him and headed for the loft. Dada had finished taking care of business and was ready to play.


	8. Love Between Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin face a major test of their relationship.

"faith is the meaning of love/ between men" -- "Faith: My Brother Richard Returns Home from the Monastery" by E. Ethelbert Miller

 

_There's a moment that you dread all of your life: the moment you come face-to-face with yourself and there are no backrooms left to hide in, no more demons you can blame, when circumstances abandon you, and all you're left with are two things: yourself to examine and a decision to make. But, of course, the decision's never easy to make, if it were you wouldn't have erected so many barriers between yourself and it in the first place. You would have dealt with it head-on and laughed about it later, about how silly, how foolish you had been. Only, none of that happened and now the sound of laughter is missing from the room. You sit alone and wonder if you'll ever stir from this place again._

 

He was going to kill Bob and Brad. How did the best ad exec in the firm manage to snag the God awfullest, worst advertisers in the company? Did Ryder and the other partners think he could walk on water? Cast out demons? Make the blind see? Turn Bob and Brad into real advertisers? So here he was on his day off trying to fix their shitty copy--again. It never ended. And he could tell Justin was getting antsy waiting for him to put down his work and play. "Just ten more minutes," he murmured, making a note to himself on the edge of the mock-up.

"You said that an hour ago." Justin stroked Brian's bare thigh wanting to slide his fingers up under the leg of his briefs.

"Sorry." Okay, there was no point in wasting anymore time on this tonight. One last note and...he was done. He straightened his papers and laid them on the bedside table. "There."

"Finished?"

Brian pulled Justin to him and kissed his neck. "Now it's time for some fun."

But Justin leaned back, away from him. "Could we talk for a minute?"

"Talk?" Brian frowned. "About what?"

Hesitant, Justin made a couple of false starts before asking, "Do we have rules?"

Instead of answering his question Brian asked one of his own. "Which one of them's been talking to you?"

"All of them."

Brian shook his head. "Fuck."

"It was only cause I asked them if..." He looked away. "If you'd been...if you'd turned any tricks lately."

Eyes zeroing in on Justin's Brian watched the seed of fear take root in the teen's. "Why didn't you ask me?"

"I didn't want you to think I didn't trust you," he replied foolishly.

"But you don't because you asked them."

Aware of his misstep, Justin pleaded, "Don't get angry."

"I'm not angry," Brian replied when clearly he was upset.

Justin wasn't fooled. "Your eyebrows are drawn in."

He looked away. "Okay, so I'm angry. What did you expect?"

Only he hadn't answered Justin's question yet and the teenager couldn't let go. "Have you?"

"You have to ask?"

Justin wished that he didn't, that he trusted Brian enough not to have to ask but he knew Brian, knew how he behaved, knew how careless he could be. "Yeah, I do." As Brian turned away, he said, "Please. I'm sorry. But I have to know."

Brian looked down at his hands. "No. I haven't." He threw back the covers and left.

Justin silently cursed himself and the guys. Not because his suspicions had been groundless but because they'd been verified. Brian was lying. He could tell by the way the man had avoided looking at him as he answered, the way he had immediately escaped from the bedroom. Slowly, Justin got out of bed and padded after him. Found him standing at the counter pouring a shot of whiskey. He didn't want to do this, hadn't wanted to push it but he couldn't help it. How could they continue as a couple if he couldn't trust Brian? They shouldn't have had to have this conversation at all. Brian didn't look up as Justin neared him. "How many?" he asked and although they were only two words, they cost him so much he wanted to weep at the price.

Not for a moment had Brian believed that Justin had bought his answer. Had hoped...maybe that he would give it up, let it alone. What the fuck did it matter? He was here now, with him.

"Brian?" Justin waited and when Brian didn't respond, he turned and went back into the bedroom, found his clothes and began putting them on.

"What are you doing?"

Justin paused with his sock halfway on his foot. "I'm going home."

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, Brian watched as Justin finished dressing and walked out of the other opening by the bathroom, avoiding him altogether. The teen grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Don't go."

Turning slightly, Justin said, "Fuck you," and he pulled open the door and took the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

In the wake of Justin's departure, Brian remained in the threshold of his bedroom, staring out at the black hole of the stairwell into which Justin had descended. After a minute, he crossed to the door and shut it but the afterimage of Justin walking away from him lingered. 

"You had to fuckin' tell him."

Michael held up his hands. "I didn't tell him shit. He asked me if you'd done any tricks lately and I told him I didn't know." He took a swig of his beer. "And I didn't. It's not like I follow you around keeping track of how many guys you do. There aren't enough hours in the day."

Angry, Brian replied, "It's none of your business anyway."

"He was the one who came looking for me. And that shit about the rules was your idea, remember? It was good enough for me and David but not good enough for you and Justin, is that it? You are such a fuckin' hypocrite." He started to drop it then thought of something else. "Besides that, what the fuck were you doing turning tricks anyway? I can't imagine the Boy Wonder not bending over whenever you wanted him to."

"That's not the point."

Shaking his head, Michael asked, "Then what is?"

"The point is I'm a grown fucking man and I can do whatever the hell I want."

"Tell that to Justin. You know, you really need to find a hobby, something to do other than fucking." Brian didn't reply, didn't make some crack about his comic book collecting, just knocked back his tumbler of whiskey. Despite being angry with him, Michael was a little worried. "How many more of those is it gonna take before you can face him?"

"Keep the hell out of it, okay?"

Sliding off his stool, Michael said, "Then don't come running to me anymore." He started to walk away, wash his hands of it, but Brian's words stopped him.

"I'm sorry."

Amazed, he turned around. "Did I just hear you say you're sorry?"

Brian stared into his empty glass. "It was only a few times."

"You shouldn't have done it at all."

"It was just sex."

"What do you think he's for?"

He set his shot glass down. "You don't understand."

"I'm not the one who has to," Michael pointed out. He clapped Brian on the shoulder. "And good fuckin' luck trying to convince him." Seeing that Em and Ted had scored a table, he went to join the game of pool.

After debating the merits of another drink, Brian left Woody's. Putting it off any longer wasn't going to help the situation. He had already wasted three days. It was time to go see Justin. 

 

The one person he was hoping not to have to see before he got a chance to talk to Justin was sitting at the kitchen table doing a crossword puzzle. Which meant she was in a really foul mood because she absolutely sucked at crossword puzzles and she only did them when she wanted to get good and pissed off. Looking up, she saw him enter the living room and try to sneak past her. "You know, just when I think it's safe to turn my back on you, you go and fuck up again." Slamming her pencil down on the table, she got ready to deliver a sermon the likes of which the world hadn't seen since Moses came down from the mountain and found the Israelites partying with a golden calf. And then it just left her, the anger boiled away and all she was left with was this incredible sadness. "Why, Brian?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then make me. Make me understand how, after all he's been through, you could do this to him."

"I didn't do anything to him."

"You can't be that fuckin' dense."

"He would have never known if he hadn't gone looking for trouble."

She laughed. "What? 'Don't ask, don't tell?' It didn't work for the military and it won't work for you."

"It was just fucking. It didn't mean anything," he mumbled, knowing she wouldn't buy it.

"It meant something to him." Getting up, she snatched open the refrigerator and lifted a can of ginger ale from the door compartment, popped the top and drank a little to soothe her stomach. "Listen, kiddo, don't waste your time trying to convince me. You know where I stand on this. But that's not what matters. What matters is how you work it out with him. And you'd better work it out or I'm gonna kick your sorry ass. Got it?" He didn't say anything. "Good. Now, go upstairs and fix it."

More afraid of walking up those stairs than he'd been of doing almost anything in his life--including going to St. James' senior prom--Brian headed for Justin's room. Stood outside the door for the longest time trying to contain the anger that he felt, furious that he even had to do this, that Justin wouldn't even try to understand and that here he was, yet again, trying to figure out how to deal with a fucking teenager. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. There was no point in avoiding the upcoming confrontation any longer because all he was doing was getting angrier and angrier and that didn't bode well for either of them.

Justin was sitting on his bed sketching. When he saw who it was entering the room, he put away his drawing and any sign of contentment or joy vanished from his face. He could tell that Brian was steaming and trying unsuccessfully to manage his anger but, fuck it, he was angry too. Why should he always be the one to give in, to compromise? Brian never gave an inch, never, and he expected the whole world to cave in to his demands, his needs. Well, maybe it was time someone else's needs got met. "I'm not changing my mind," Justin announced before Brian could even get a word out.

"Which means what?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

"That either you stop tricking or it's over," said Justin and there was no give in his voice, it was like steel.

Brian narrowed his eyes. "So the great king has spoken and that's that."

Something twitched inside him but he refused to take heed. "I'm serious."

"Fine." He flung open the door.

"Fine what?" asked Justin, standing, suddenly very afraid.

Pausing in the threshold, Brian looked the teen directly in the eyes and articulated every word. "Fine. It's over." By the time he got to the head of the stairs Deb had made it halfway up.

" Brian--" she began.

Justin shouted down the stairs after him, "I hate you! I hate... I fuckin..."

Brian pushed past her and stormed out of the house.

"Sunshine?" Justin stood in the threshold of the bedroom, his face twisted in anger still. And then his lips began to tremble and he went inside and closed the door. Deb slumped against the banister. Christ. 

 

After two shots of bourbon he still felt like shit and yet he still couldn't bring himself to pick up his cell and call. He needed to talk to someone but they'd all just yell at him and tell him to stop fuckin' things up. He wanted to call Justin and...what? What would he say to him? God...how in the hell did he get himself into these situations? He'd been happy by himself. Fucking around. Doing just as he pleased. Were you really happy? he asked himself but he didn't answer. One thing was certain, he hadn't been this miserable. Not in a long time. Not since--

The key turned in the door so he knew it was Justin. He'd already grabbed the bottle of bourbon and was getting up to put it away when he realized what he was doing and it made him angry all over again. Fuck it. If Justin couldn't handle the sight of him drinking, he could take his ass home. Only he's got three drawers full of stuff here, he reminded himself, so what does that make this place? Taking the bottle to the counter, he placed it out of view and waited for the teen to come inside the apartment.

It only took one look at Justin for Brian to know that he'd probably spent the past hour up in his room crying. And that hurt more than he wanted to admit to himself.

Justin couldn't meet his eyes. He knew Brian had probably been in the loft drinking. In a way he was glad, at least he wasn't out screwing some guy. "Hey," he said softly, figuring that Brian was going to tell him to fuck off.

"Hey," he replied. It was then that he saw the bag in Justin's hand. He'd come to get his belongings, his three drawers full. Suddenly Brian didn't want it to be over. "You don't have to take your things."

But Justin was determined that this time he would stick to his guns. He swallowed. "You said it was over."

"I didn't mean it," Brian admitted and it was probably the first time in a long time that he had said those words.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I don't want us to be over." He laughed bitterly. "We've just gotten started."

Justin dropped his bag and walked away from Brian, towards the window. With his back to the man, he spoke. "I don't know what you mean by 'us'."

Brian followed. "Justin--"

"I don't want--" he paused, then began again. "I don't want you seeing other people."

"I'm not."

"You're fucking them."

"It didn't mean anything."

"Then don't do it anymore."

"No." Brian turned away. "I won't be dictated to."

"I'm asking you," explained Justin, returning to the dining area. "I'm begging you, if that's what you want."

"I want you to drop this."

"I can't." He touched Brian's sleeve tentatively. "Because it means something to me. When you're with someone else, it hurts me."

"You didn't even know." He continued, "You don't have to know. If you don't want to."

"So we're both supposed to just pretend that it's not happening?"

"It has nothing to do with you."

"How can you say that? It has everything to do with me. With the fact that it's not enough for you to have me. That I'm not good enough."

"I didn't say that."

"You say it every time you go out and fuck some other guy. That's what you're saying to me." Wiping his face, he said, "I don't understand why you can't come to me." Brian didn't answer. "If it's just sex, if that's all it is, all you have to do is ask me. I've never denied you anything. Never said no." His face was flushed, he was so humiliated. "There's nothing I wouldn't do. Nothing. No matter what," he whispered.

Brian made no response. He couldn't explain it to Justin because he didn't understand it himself, he just knew that it was something he needed.

Justin moved away from him. Picked up his bag and started for the bedroom. He stood in front of the chest of drawers where Brian had made a place for him and he began to cry because that had been so hard, getting Brian to let him into his life, and in the end, it turned out to be the easy part, giving up three drawers. Because here he was, not two months later, taking his things out again because they had failed. He didn't hear Brian come up behind him but he felt him when the man touched him.

"Please," Brian said, "just let this go. Give me this and I swear, I won't ask you for anything else."

And he wanted to. He wanted to say that he didn't give a shit, that Brian could fuck anything he wanted just as long as they remained untouched but they couldn't remain unblemished. Already he could see the stains. So he shook his head and opened the first drawer. But Brian shoved it close, refused to let him open it again. Justin turned. "This won't change anything."

"I won't let you. Not like this." His heart was in his throat and he could barely breathe.

"You can't stop me," Justin replied. "Just like I can't stop you from turning tricks." He pushed past Brian, leaving the bag, and walked out of the apartment.

This time he had shut the door so there was no point in moving. Brian dropped to the bed and covered his face but it didn't matter, he could feel the tears coursing down his cheeks. 

 

Pulling the baby's pants back up after changing him, Lindsay asked, "What did you think would happen if he found out? That he'd smile and you'd go on your merry way?"

"I thought...he understood me."

"I don't understand this, Brian." She put Gus on the floor and he immediately began crawling around his Dadda's legs. "Why? And how? After everything that happened between you and Cam, why would you do this?"

"It's different," he replied. To buy himself some time, he picked up the leather bear he'd bought Gus and coaxed the baby away from the sofa and back to the middle of the floor. When Gus had moved far enough away, Brian dropped the bear and stood. Paced around the dining room. "I couldn't trust Cam."

"And Justin can trust you? After you lied to him?"

"I didn't lie to him."

"When you two got together, did you tell him you were planning on maintaining your outside interests?"

He wouldn't look at her as he answered. "No."

"But you hadn't planned on stopping."

"No." At last he looked up.

Lindsay pierced him with her gaze. "Then you lied to him. The same way Cam lied to you. And with the same results. Except this time, you're the one who fucked it up."

"Maybe I was the one who fucked it up before. Maybe if I had tried to understand--"

Angry, she lashed out at him. "Stop making excuses!"

"You think I'm doing this just for the hell of it?" he asked in an anguished voice. "You think I want to lose him?"

"Yes! I do. I think you're scared of being committed to anyone other than yourself and you're using this to drive him away." She stood and neared him. "And if you're not careful, you're gonna do just that."

"I don't want us...I don't want me and Justin to end up like me and Cam." He swallowed. "I love him, Lindz. I know you don't believe that--"

"I believe you, Bri, but you're hurting him. Why can't you do the right thing?"

"The right thing for who?"

"Is it worth losing Justin? Whatever it is you get from these guys, is it worth destroying your relationship?" When Brian didn't answer, she pressed him, "Bri?" She backed away, disgusted. "I just don't understand."

"And you think I do?"

"Why do you need to be with other men?"

"I don't know."

She shook her head. "That's not good enough. There has to be a reason."

But he stuck to his original answer. "I don't know, Lindsay. I--if I knew, if I could make some sense of it, maybe I could explain it to him, make him understand, but I don't know why."

Lifting Gus from the floor, Lindsay returned to the couch, sat the baby on her knee and held him close. "Then you'd better figure it out before he's gone for good."

Brian rubbed at his temples, a sharp pain having slammed into his head. "Maybe he already has."

Lindsay disagreed. "He loves you more than anything in this world. All he wants is for you to give him a reason to come back." 

 

At the end of his shift, Justin checked his voice mail for messages and found one. From Brian wanting him to come to the loft to talk after work. He held the phone in his hand, unsure as to what to do, how to proceed, when Deb walked by him and said, "Go. Go talk to him. He's an asshole, but he loves you."

So he drove Deb's car over to Brian's place and knocked. Waited for the man to let him in even though he still had a key. There was no point in making Brian believe one message had changed anything between them.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said, shutting the door behind the teen.

"What did you want to talk about?" Justin sat in one of the dining chairs, eyeing the centerpiece.

Brian sat across from him, only instead of wasting his time on the centerpiece, he studied Justin's face. He looked pale and drawn. Out of habit, Brian reached across to touch him and drew back his hand at the last moment. Things had changed that much between them in only a week. It was time to fix what was wrong. "We need to figure out a way for us to be together."

"I already told you--"

"I know." He paused. "But, Justin..." God, he didn't know what to say.

"Why is it so hard for you to be with me and only me?"

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer." He looked away from Brian, knew that if he continued to stare at him he would cry because he wanted so much to touch him, to hold him, that it was driving him crazy. "You don't know how it makes me feel."

"I do know." And they both knew it. Justin hadn't brought up Cam but Brian's former lover was there, hovering in the background, watching them head down a similar path with possibly similar results.

"Then why?" He wiped his eyes. "I thought you said you loved me."

"I do love you."

Justin stood abruptly. "We're just going in fuckin' circles!"

Brian left his seat as well, came up behind Justin and tentatively touched him. When the teen didn't pull away, he wrapped his arms around him and held him. He could feel Justin trembling. "Baby..." Gently, he palmed the teen's jaw and leaned in to kiss him but Justin pulled away.

"Don't." He disengaged himself from Brian's embrace. "We haven't settled anything."

"I want us to try."

"Can you promise me it won't ever happen again?"

Wanting to say yes more than anything Brian, nevertheless, could not lie to Justin. "No."

"Then tell me why," he said and he added, "and I don't want to hear how you don't know why." When Brian didn't respond, Justin forced himself to ask, "Does it make you feel sexier if someone else wants you?"

"No." It was true, no one had ever looked at him with the same kind of desire in their eyes as Justin had, did. He never felt sexier than when the teenager was gazing down at him, memorizing his features for a new sketch or just appreciating his beauty.

"Is it because they're hotter than me?"

"No." He'd been with better-looking men, men with more muscular bodies, bigger cocks, more perfect features, but none of them were hotter than Justin, none of them turned him on the way the teen did.

"Is it because they're better lovers?"

Again he shook his head. "No."

A tear slipped down Justin's face. "Then what? I don't understand."

"Justin..." Brian began. He turned away, racked his brains for a way to explain. "It's not like I think about it. It just happens."

"What happened the last time?"

" I'm not gonna do this. I'm not gonna tell you--"

"I want to know."

His nostrils flared. "It'll only upset you and--"

"I'm already upset! Just tell me."

Casting his mind back to the night at Babylon when he'd turned the last trick, Brian tried to remember the circumstances. Justin had pleaded a headache and stayed home so he'd gone out with the guys. They'd danced together for an hour or so and stood around shooting the breeze, knocking back two or three beers each. He'd been buzzed but not high. Hadn't intended to do anything more than to hang out for a while and go home. And then this guy caught his eye. "I don't even remember what he looked like. Michael and Emmett and Ted were on the dance floor and I was finishing my beer. This guy came over and I don't remember what he said or if he said anything. Next thing I know, we were in the backroom."

"So you were horny and I wasn't there so you fucked this guy?"

" I wasn't horny."

"Then what, Brian?" Justin felt himself beginning to lose it.

"I guess...it was because the opportunity arose."

Justin laughed bitterly and sat back down. He was so tired. All he wanted was to close his eyes and go to sleep, hoping that when he awoke, they'd be back in the Bahamas together, making love in their four-poster bed, the world forgotten. "Would you have done him if I had been there?"

"You fuckin' know I wouldn't," Brian answered hotly.

"I can't be with you all the time," Justin said.

"That's not the answer."

"Then what is?" asked Justin near the breaking point. "For me to say it's all right?" He waited. "Or for me to say that it's none of my business what you do? That I'm here for you to fuck whenever you want, to share your life when you want me to, to be on-call for you, to take care of you, to be whatever you want and not expect anything in return?"

"I'm there for you. Don't say that I'm not."

"When it's convenient."

Brian walked away from the table, stood with his back to Justin so that the teen wouldn't see the tears even though he could hear them in his voice when he spoke. "Was it convenient for me to be at your side every fucking day while you were in the hospital? When your own father couldn't be bothered to do the same thing? To take you to the doctor's when I needed to be at work? To go away with you for a week when I knew this shit with Old Pitt was gonna come down sometime soon? To wake up and hold you when you can't sleep because you have nightmares about Chris Hobbs?" He wiped his eyes and turned around, faced Justin. "I'm trying, Justin. I just--I need you--I need you to be patient."

"For what, Brian?"

"I don't want to lose you."

"Then stop pushing me away."

Brian sat on the arm of the sofa, exhausted by their exchange. "You're right, we're just going in circles."

"So what are we gonna do?" asked Justin softly, afraid of what the answer might be.

"Stay here tonight. With me."

"And what's that gonna solve?"

Leaving the sofa, Brian walked over to the table looking down on Justin. "Do you want to go and leave things like this? You wanna spend another night alone?" His voice was like silk and Justin wanted to wrap himself up in it. Helplessly, Justin shook his head. Cupping his chin, Brian raised the teen's face, then leaned over and kissed him. 

 

Justin held onto the edge of the bar chair, his legs over Brian's shoulders, as his lover fucked him. Being cramped didn't matter, being pressed into the hard plastic didn't matter, being slightly out of breath didn't matter, all that mattered was that Brian kept thrusting into him, kept driving his cock home, kept him on the edge of madness. He didn't care who Brian had fucked and when just as long as he kept fucking him. "Uh! Uh! Oh--oh God. Oh God," Justin moaned as Brian hammered his ass. His hole had been battered into submission, he offered no resistance, just held onto the chair and enjoyed the feel of Brian's dick sliding inside him. The condom couldn't disguise the breadth of the head, the length and girth of the shaft...couldn't mask the swelling, the throbbing... Giving a long, low groan, "Oooooh..." Justin tightened his hole and gritted his teeth as the room swam around him. Brian flexed his hips and rocked against him, moved his pelvis in a circular motion, his cock exiting in a spiral and Justin shouted, grabbed Brian's ass and pulled him back. "Stay in me. Stay in me..." he whispered in a husky voice. "Fuck me." Brian jabbed his hole. "Yes!" The chair tipped a little from the force of Brian's thrusts. "Harder," Justin demanded. "Fuck me harder. Fuck me. Fuck...fuck me. Harder. Harder!" Brian's hips moved in a blur, pounding his ass with a cock that felt like iron wrapped in velvet.

Suddenly he withdrew, pulled Justin from the chair, bent him over, and mounted him again. Justin grabbed hold of the rungs of the chair legs and held on as Brian's dick mauled his ass. The head of his cock had expanded again, raking the sides, the bottom, the top of Justin's hole and the teen whimpered, feeling his own dick bounce between his thighs, hard, dripping precum on the steel rungs, the wooden floor. Releasing a hand, he stroked his cock and groaned. His ass tightened and Brian hissed. Pressed tight against Justin and wiggled his hips, began moving them again in a circle. Justin worked his hips the opposite way and lights went off inside their heads. Fuck, his asshole was on fire, was burning up, and the flames spread, licked at his nipples, his throat.

Brian felt like he was immersed in liquid steel, his body hard, slick with sweat. The first spasm gripped him and he threw back his head and grunted. His chest and belly tightened and he lunged against Justin's buttocks. "Aghh!" He was coming. Grimacing, he pumped his hips again and felt his cock throb once more. "Yes!" Caught his breath. "Yes...yesss..." He waited until he his muscles stopped jerking to pull out. Even inside the condom, his cock was an angry shade of red.

Dropping to his knees, he drew Justin's cock down between his thighs and jacked it, his fingers tight around the slick shaft. Justin held onto the chair legs while Brian stroked him, his face pressed against the seat of the chair. "Make me come," he begged. "Make me...come. Don't stop. Don't stop." Brian tugged on the pulsating length of meat, his tongue lapping at the teen's relaxed hole. The tip of his tongue pushed inside and Justin cried out, "Oh God!" Wiggling his tongue, Brian continued to fuck his hole and to pull on his dick until Justin's balls drew up and the first squirt of cum splashed the chair legs and hung from the rungs. Justin's voice was strangled as he yelled, unable to keep silent as he released his load. Brian held onto his cock until he had finished, still stroking it past the point of ejaculation, spreading his spunk over the entire shaft. And his tongue, which had felt like another dick in Justin's ass, brushed over the boy's hole like a peacock feather. 

 

His first waking thought was, Justin, and he reached for him. He was gone. His side of the bed was cold. _How fuckin' long has he been up?_ Throwing back the covers, he stumbled out of the bedroom and looked around for him to no avail. The teen was gone. Brian cursed and made to return to bed. Alone. It was then that he noticed the drawing on top of the table. The sight of it took the strength from his legs. Dropping down into a chair, he studied the sketch. It was of him, his face trapped inside of and distorted by a tear. His fingers tightened on the edge of the drawing, crushing it and he forced himself to let go before he destroyed Justin's work. Smoothed out the creases, all the while crying silently.

_There's a moment that you dread all of your life: the moment you come face-to-face with yourself and there are no backrooms left to hide in, no more demons you can blame, when circumstances abandon you, and all you're left with are two things: yourself to examine and a decision to make. But, of course, the decision's never easy to make, if it were you wouldn't have erected so many barriers between yourself and it in the first place. You would have dealt with it head-on and laughed about it later, about how silly, how foolish you had been. Only, none of that happened and now the sound of laughter is missing from the room. You sit alone and wonder if you'll ever stir from this place again._

Finally he got up and left the drawing where it lay, tear-stained and crinkled. 

 

Drew was frankly shocked to see the man seated before him. He hadn't seemed the type of person who'd voluntarily seek help. Even after the discoveries he'd made, he hadn't seemed comfortable with the idea of therapy. People like that never were and yet they were the very people who needed it most. Ego strong, driven.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to see you again."

"And after I gave you such good advice? Truthfully, I was surprised you even listened to me."

"At $150 an hour, you're like fuckin' E .F. Hutton."

"And look what happened."

"Yeah," he replied and paused, the words still hard to say even after this long. "I found out I'd been...that I didn't remember my own life."

Noting that Brian still couldn't say the word 'rape' Drew decided not to pursue it right now. Saying instead, "Least now you know and knowing's half the battle."

"You get that off some inspirational poster?" he asked, scorn in his voice.

"G.I. Joe." Brian laughed. "I think we would have been friends under different circumstances."

"One Ted in my life is enough."

"Who's Ted?"

"Ted's...a good guy."

"So are you."

"Justin wouldn't say so."

"Who's Justin?"

"My twinkie boyfriend...lover." The image of himself inside the tear came back to him. "Well, he used to be. I don't know what he is now."

"What's wrong?"

"Everything."

"Start from the beginning."

"Doc, we only have an hour."

"Tell me enough so I understand."

So Brian told him the abbreviated version of their meeting and their subsequent relationship--now he could see that's what they'd been in even if he hadn't wanted to admit it, now he saw so many things with the benefit of hindsight. "It took him getting hurt to make me realize that I wanted him in my life."

"What happened?"

"He got hit in the head with a baseball bat. Right in front of me."

Recognition flashed across Drew's face. "I remember reading about it in the papers. I saw the name and I thought there have to be other Brian Kinneys in Pittsburgh. But it was you."

"Yeah."

"Then it hasn't been very long."

"No." He forced himself to continue, to tell the truth. "But everything's totally fucked. And it's all my fault," he replied softly. "Everything."

"Okay...how about we start with the biggest part of everything," Drew suggested knowing well Brian's propensity for hyperbole.

"Justin found out that I've been turning tricks."

"And he was less than pleased."

"He went ballistic." Remembering the scene, Brian thought ballistic was probably inadequate at best to describe what had happened. "Demanded I stop. That I promise not to do it again."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him I couldn't." Even now Brian was ashamed that he hadn't been able to make Justin that one promise.

"Why not?"

"If I knew that, I'd be $150 richer."

"Increase that amount, your hour's up." Drew picked up his appointment book. "Same time on Thursday?"

Brian saw Justin's face before him, wet with tears. "Yeah." 

 

 

"You coming?" Michael asked and Brian shook his head. "He might not be there."

"I'm not in the mood." He hadn't even put on a shirt, just wandered about bare-chested and barefoot in his jeans.

"Why don't you--"

"Stay out of it, Mikey."

"Fine." He noticed Brian staring at a picture of him and Justin on the beach. They weren't touching but they didn't have to be. Anyone could tell they were together. Connected. Michael glanced at the bracelet Brian wore on his right wrist. "I remember the first time I saw you with that bracelet on."

"Subtlety's not your strong suit."

"Maybe the situation doesn't call for it."

"Maybe you should leave it alone."

"Pain in the ass that he is, Justin really loves you."

"I know."

"And he deserves better than this, Brian." When his friend didn't reply, Michael asked, "Are you even trying?"

"Get off my fucking back."

"You're gonna end up just like your dad if you keep--"

"I said I'm not coming, so you can go."

"You can't dismiss him as easily."

"Maybe I won't have to, maybe he'll just walk away!" Michael stumbled backwards. "Which is what you've always wanted, isn't it? For him to disappear from our lives?"

"Brian..."

"So you ought to be happy. I shouldn't have to hear any more fuckin' complaints about Justin."

"I was only joking. I never meant anything by it." Afraid that if he tried to touch Brian, he'd only rebuff him, Michael nevertheless reached for him. "Brian..."

"I can't sleep, did you know that? I used to be able to sleep. And now I just lie awake half the night." He turned and walked away. Stopped. "I've got three drawers full of his shit, and a refrigerator stocked with food I bought for him, pictures that I took with him, and a fuckin' head crammed with memories that won't let me forget... that he--that he used to have a place in my life."

Nearing him, Michael laid a hand upon his bare shoulder. "He'll be back."

But Brian refused to turn around, to let him see the tears that marred his visage. "Maybe..." He twisted the bracelet around his wrist. "And maybe I've fucked this up too." 

 

 

Daphne's parents had gone out for the evening so the two recent graduates shared an ice cream sundae and watched Spawn--the animated series not the lame-assed live action version--and every time the hellspawn killed someone, Daphne covered her eyes.

"Guys are so weird," she commented, frowning at the way Justin seemed to relish the cartoon violence even though he was probably the most sensitive male she knew.

"Spawn is totally cool." Justin took another spoonful of ice cream. "It's not just the violence, it's the angst. It's the fact that he doesn't want to do evil. He's a conflicted hero."

"Yeah, but he doesn't want to do good either," Daphne pointed out quite correctly.

Justin had to admit that she was right. "I suppose."

"All he really wants is to see his wife." She scooped up the last of the sundae. "And bitch about how unfair it is that he killed all these people when he was alive and now that he's dead he's being punished for it. Now, the cyborg in Ghost in the Shell she was cool."

He hadn't heard her last comment. Instead, he replied in a soft voice, "Sometimes people do things and they don't really think about it and then it comes back to haunt them later on."

"Justin..." She knew he was talking about Brian, as he'd gone all evening without saying anything about his lover. Which meant that he'd been on his mind constantly. "Things'll work out between you two."

He shook his head. "I don't see how." Laying his spoon in the empty dish, he took a deep breath. "Do you think I'm wrong, Daph?"

"About what?"

"About wanting him to be faithful."

"No." She turned down the volume on the television. "But he does, doesn't he?"

"He thinks I'm acting like a spoiled child." He'd lost his appetite for violence and stopped the movie. Daphne didn't complain. "Brian doesn't see anything wrong with him fucking around. He says it has nothing to do with me."

"That's not true," she replied with all of the acquired wisdom of her eighteen years on earth. "I don't understand why he can't see that."

Justin explained, "He can see it, he just doesn't want to admit it. He wants to pretend that it's all my fault, that I'm just being a kid, when he's the one who's being childish. We're supposed to be in a relationship and he's behaving like a complete asshole."

"Well," she began, "maybe it's good that you found out now. Before it was too late."

"It's already too late." He looked away as he spoke. "I can't walk away from him, Daph. I love him too much."

"Justin--"

"I know, I know all the reasons why I should but none of those reasons matter because of the one reason why I can't."

Hurting for her friend, she wisely asked, "You haven't told him that, have you?" At the negative shake of his head, she said, "Good. Cause if you had, you'd never get him to change."

"He's not gonna change." Justin wiped his eyes. "He hates change. And he thinks I'm trying to dictate to him. But I'm not. Daph--it hurts when I think about him with someone else. I don't know why, I just know that it does."

Rejecting any perceived weaknesses on his part, she declared, "You don't have a problem, he has the problem."

"But I do," Justin begged to differ. "I have a big problem: we're not together."

"Have you seen him since...you know, since you went over to talk?" Justin had told her about their aborted attempt to have a rational discussion about their problems and how it had degenerated into another hot sex session.

"No." He studied his hands, remembering how he had sat at the table sketching Brian while he slept, not needing to see him anymore, capturing his features perfectly from memory. Not even memory, it was stronger than that, more permanent, like a part of him, like a part of his brain that got turned on when needed. "We can't keep having sex if we're not together, if we can't agree on this. I won't go back to the way things were before. I'm not a toy and I won't be played with and then put aside. If that's what he wants, then he can go fuck himself." Only he didn't feel half as confident as he sounded and Daphne knew it. She'd known him too long, listened too many times to him confess his love for Brian, helpless to control it, to escape from it even when it seemed his feelings would choke him, hurt him. Gently, she took his hand, not saying anything, just being there for him. After a moment, he gave in to the tears that he'd been holding back and she eased her arm around him and held him as he cried. 

 

 

He was actually early for his session with Drew. Sat out in the waiting room while the therapist finished with his current patient. Fuck, he thought, _it's official, I'm a mental case._ Picking up a copy of last November's Better Homes and Gardens he lost himself in the twenty ways to make your holidays more memorable. Just as he was about to discover the secret to baking a juicier bird, Drew's four thirty appointment exited his office and his receptionist called his name. Almost reluctantly, he put away the magazine. Not that he gave a fuck about juicy turkeys, he just wasn't up to facing any inner demons this afternoon. It'd been a rough day at work, they were in the midst of wooing a potential big ticket client and he'd had to kiss major ass all day. Worse, the head of the Sales Division, a woman named Margaret Raynor, seemed to be a bit sweet on him. Her gaydar must have been totally fucked up if she thought he had the slightest interest in her. He'd half-expected her to grab his ass in the elevator but he guessed the possibility of their being joined by another passenger at any time must have deterred her. Not that he hadn't fucked women in the past, it was just that--he clamped down on the thought and put it away. He'd have to face him soon enough. Might as well wait until Drew asked.

They settled down in their customary places, Drew in the leather wing-back, Brian in one of the accent chairs scattered about the office. As usual, he positioned it near the window, drawing strength from the sunlight. After a perfunctory greeting, Drew got right down to business.

"How do you feel when you go out tricking?"

"I don't go out tricking. Not anymore."

"Then..."

"I was out. Things happened."

"What things? Did you approach them?"

"No."

"But you didn't tell them you were in a relationship."

"No."

"Do you consider yourself to be in a relationship?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean to you?"

Brian paused and glanced out of the window.

"I don't think the answer's out there."

He glared at the therapist but Drew presented an imperturbable facade.

"What does being in a relationship mean to you?"

"It means," he began, "that we love each other." Paused and added, "That we're there for each other."

"How? How are you there for each other? Give me an example."

"I support him."

"Financially?"

Brian knew Drew was baiting him. "Emotionally."

"Do you consider his welfare to be important?"

"Of course."

"What about being faithful?"

"I am faithful."

"How?"

"He comes first. Except maybe for Gus."

"What about the tricks?"

"What about them?" Brian was genuinely confused.

"How do they fit into the picture?"

"They have nothing to do with us."

"These are men you've had sex with."

"So?"

"I find it hard to believe they mean nothing to you."

"Are you sure you're gay?" Brian asked.

"I'm the therapist and this is my office which means I get to ask the questions. You get your own degree and a license and an office and I'll come over and you can ask me questions." His patient looked perturbed. "So, back to my observation: I find it hard to believe these men you've slept with don't mean anything to you."

"Doc, I used to turn twenty, thirty tricks a month." At Drew's astonished look Brian smiled faintly. "So, no, they don't mean shit to me."

"Then why do it?"

"Why not?"

"Because you said Justin's important to you." Brian's smile faded completely away as if it had never made an appearance, like the sun on an overcast day right before the storm broke. He said nothing. "Brian?"

Angry that Drew had trapped him in this conundrum, he attempted to extricate himself. "So every time I do something that upsets him, I'm supposed to drop it?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just restating what you said. You said that you loved Justin, that he came first, which leads me to believe that you'd try to avoid hurting him. And you're telling me the tricking upsets him, it hurts him, and it's putting your relationship--a relationship that you seem to think is important--at risk. Have I gotten any of that wrong? Have I misinterpreted what you've said?"

"No," softly.

"So my question remains: Why do it?"

"I don't know."

"I find that hard to believe."

Brian stood abruptly. "I don't give a fuck what you believe."

Calmly, Drew said his name, "Brian." He turned. The therapist waited for him to return to his seat, which he did after a moment. "Do you desire these other men?"

"No. Not really. I mean...they're hot, I guess, but..."

"But you don't actively seek them out."

"No."

"I want you to do something for me." When Brian didn't question him, he continued. "I want you to keep a journal."

"A what?"

"And I want you to write down every time a man approaches you sexually--"

"How big is this thing supposed to be?"

"--and," continued Drew, "you're tempted to turn a trick."

"So, if I don't want him, I don't have to write it down?"

"Correct. And if you find yourself wanting a man, whether he approaches you or not, I want you to write it down as well." Seeing that Brian hadn't objected, Drew finished outlining his instructions. "I also want you to write down what you're feeling at the time. If you're horny or sad or angry, whatever."

"What if I'm not feeling anything? What if I'm just there?"

"Write that down."

"For how long?" he asked, seeing this stretch into eternity.

"Until our next session."

Brian wouldn't meet Drew's eyes as he asked, "Do you want me to include Justin?"

"Only if you're thinking about him in conjunction with one of these potential tricks." That last point he re-emphasized. "Potential tricks. I don't want you turning any tricks until we talk again. Got it?"

He plucked at the crease in his trousers. "That it?"

Drew checked his watch. "Don't get antsy. You've still got plenty of time left." He grinned. "Now. Tell me about your relationship with your mother."

Brian laughed, recognizing one of Drew's dry jokes. "Fuck you," he said, not without a breath of affection in his voice. 

 

 

Although he feared meeting Justin on the dance floor, Brian let Michael and the guys talk him into hitting Babylon. Despite having had Cynthia get him the smallest notepad in the Supply Room, he still felt like he had a binder in his back pocket. And what were the guys gonna think when he whipped it out and started writing in it? Fuck, the things he let Drew talk him into. If it hadn't been for the fact that the man had actually helped him before... Shit, he grumbled silently. Maybe it'd be a quiet night and he'd get out of there without having to... He felt a hand on his ass. Turned from his dance partner and looked into a pair of beautiful eyes. Violet eyes. "No." The guy removed his hand and flashed Brian a confused look. His eyes were so beautiful...but Brian repeated his answer. "No." Having gotten the hint at last, the trick gave up and went in search of someone else. Brian abandoned the guy he'd been dancing with and made his way back to the bar where the guys were standing around bullshitting. He studied his beer on the counter then, begrudgingly, took out his notebook and began scribbling.

Emmett raised his eyebrows. "Writing the great American novel?"

"Let me guess," said Ted, _"The House of Seven Gay Boys? Cocked Revisited?"_

 _"Gone with the Window Dresser?"_ Of course, that was Em.

Michael got in on the fun. _"Backroom with a View?"_

 _"As I Lay Cumming?"_ Ted again.

"Shut the fuck up," Brian growled. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"What are you doing?" Michael asked.

Rolling his eyes, Brian finished jotting down his thoughts and put the notebook and pencil away. "Something my therapist wants me to do," he said casually hoping against hope that they'd let it go. Yeah, fat chance.

"Did you say your therapist?" asked Em. "You have a therapist?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

Emmett sang, "I done seen about everything, when I seen an elephant fly."

Ruefully, Brian said, "Thanks for your support."

"Well, I think it's great you're seeing a shrink," Ted commented. Brian waited. "I can't wait to read about you in _The Journal of Abnormal Psychology."_

Enunciating clearly, Brian replied, "Kiss my ass."

"I think he's stuck in the anal stage," declared Em.

"By Freud, I think he's got it," Ted quipped and the two men avoided Brian's punching fist and melted into the crowd.

Michael finished off his beer and moved closer to Brian so they could talk without being overheard. "I think you're doing the right thing."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of sleeping alone."

"So's he, I bet."

Brian stroked the neck of his beer bottle absent-mindedly. "I wouldn't know. We haven't spoken all week. He came over to talk on Sunday and we ended up having sex and I haven't seen him since."

Distracted by the motion of Brian's fingers, Michael pulled his attention away from what they were doing and responded to Brian's comment. "It's probably for the best. Until you clear things up."

He finished his beer and put aside the bottle. "Yeah." Debated returning to the dance floor, then decided he'd had enough. "I'm gonna go."

"You okay?"

" I'm just tired. Work was a bitch."

But Michael didn't buy it. Still, he didn't push. "Coming to breakfast tomorrow?"

"Eight thirty."

Michael added, "He might be there too. I think he's got the early shift on Saturday." Brian shrugged. "I'm just telling you. See ya."

"See ya, Mikey." Pushing his way through the crowd to the door, Brian exited Babylon, his eyes on the ground, avoiding all contact as he made his way to where the Jeep was parked. And then he cut on the overhead light, took out his notebook, and began writing. 

 

 

Justin lay naked upon the comforter, a towel beneath him, his legs spread open, balls between his thighs. Slowly he moved his hands over his chest, playing with his nipples, with the ring through his tit. Grasping it in his fingers, he twisted the ring ever so slightly, sending a twinge of pain through his flesh. He loved to feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over his nipples, imagining that they were Brian's fingers. Teasing him. It only took a couple of strokes for his tits to stand at attention when Brian played with his chest. It felt even better when he sucked on them, his broad, warm tongue washing over Justin's flesh, coaxing the nubs to harden. He slid his fingers into his mouth and wet them, then pinched his nipples, coating them with saliva. God, it felt so good. Rolling his tits between his fingers. His cock was beginning to tingle a little. But it wasn't time yet. Not yet...

He allowed his hands to roam over his chest and belly, down across his ribs, over his hips and along his thighs. Turned over onto his stomach and cupped his buttocks, squeezing them lightly at first, then harder as he rubbed his cock against the bedspread. Spat on his finger, then parted his cheeks, wet his hole. He grabbed the mounds of his ass and worked them against one another, spreading the saliva around. Brushing his finger over his hole he gasped. Felt the wrinkled lips draw in, then relax. He rubbed the opening again, this time applying more pressure so that his finger pushed against the center, sinking inside. Withdrawing it, he popped the top on the tube of lubricant and pressed it against his hole, squeezed. Lube ran down between his cheeks and over his balls onto the towel. Putting the tube away, he worked his finger against the now slick orifice and held his breath as it passed through the first and second rings of muscle. Raising his behind slightly, he fucked himself with his finger, opening his ass up in preparation for what was to come.

When he felt that he was relaxed enough, Justin removed his finger and turned over. Grabbed hold of his dick and slowly began to stroke it. Sliding his hand up and down his shaft, he licked his lips and imagined that it was Brian's hand around his cock. He loved the way Brian manhandled his meat sometimes, pulling on his dick until it swelled, squeezing the head, tugging on his balls... Justin cupped his nuts and rolled them around in the palm of his hand. God, if only Brian were here to feed on his balls...he could almost feel his lips around him, feel his tongue snaking about his hole... Holding up his dick and blowing him, sucking him hard and slow the way Justin liked it. Covering every inch from base to tip. Tongue probing his piss hole. Justin ran his finger over the tip of his cock and pressed against the opening. "Yes..." He was so hard. Envisioning Brian crouched between his thighs, mouth full of slippery cock. Twisting his head as he went down on Justin.

Needing more, he moaned and got onto his knees, picked up the butt plug from the nightstand and lubed it until it shone. It had been a gift from Brian. "To keep you company on those long, lonely nights," he'd said never imagining that their nights apart would outnumber their nights together. The toy was six inches long, five inches around at the base, ribbed, and tapered to a blunt point. It glistened from the lube. Laying the vibrating control and the pump on the bed, he eased the plug into his asshole. He'd already filled it with warm water beforehand. His lips stretching, he took every inch until he was completely plugged and the ring around the base was firm against his hole. Then he flipped the switch on the vibrating control. Immediately he began to tremble and gasp as the vibrations rocked him. At this rate, he didn't know how he'd make it to the highest level. It was like an electric shock went through him. His cock throbbed and he pulled on it, aware that he was getting close to the edge. He pressed down on his balls at the base of his cock and took a deep breath, but the butt plug was still vibrating and he could barely see.

Fumbling for the control, he increased the speed and had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out. He pulled on his dick, jacking it as the sensations in his asshole pushed him closer to the edge. Gasping, he adjusted the speed control to the highest level and grunted as he was taken to new heights of ecstasy. One hand around his cock, the other on the ball pump that controlled the ejaculation feature of the plug, Justin prepared to blow his load. His hole tightened and he felt his belly and chest begin to get hard.

Giving his dick one more tug, he squeezed the ball and warm water gushed out of the toy, washed the insides of his asshole. God, what he wouldn't give to feel Brian come inside him like that, filling him with his creamy cum. He could see himself lying on the bed after Brian had pulled out, cum running down over his balls. Brian licking his own spunk from Justin's opened hole...him tasting it on Brian's tongue as they kissed... He gave the ball another squeeze and another and then dropped it, unable to continue to work the pump as his sac had drawn up against his dick and he wanted nothing more than to come. Swallowing a cry, he ejaculated, directing the flow of jizz onto his belly. The butt plug still vibrating, Justin rode it until he was empty.

Bent over, exhausted, he fumbled for the vibrator control and switched it off. Held onto the base of the plug and removed it from his ass. It came free with a sucking sound accompanied by the trickle of water and he dropped it onto the towel. Wiped himself clean and bundled everything up, pushed it over the edge. He'd clean up later. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. And dream. 

 

 

Justin wasn't at the diner Saturday morning. Making no attempt to disguise her disappointment in Brian for allowing this go on for so long, she explained that the teen was spending the day helping his mother repaint the living room in her new townhouse. "You should be there," she told him.

"I hate painting."

"Do you like being miserable?" she asked and he refused to answer, studying the menu needlessly. "I want you to fix this."

"How?" he asked exasperated.

"I don't know how. Just do it," she ordered. "He's a fuckin' mess." Deb peered into his eyes. "So are you."

"And after I spent an hour in the bathroom getting ready."

She popped him on the arm. "Don't be a smart-ass."

"Maybe it's not all Brian's fault," added Michael in defense of his best friend.

Emmett decided to say nothing at all and thus avoid the wrath of Mom.

Luckily Deb was too busy reaming Brian out to take on another battle. "It doesn't matter who's fault it is. I'm sick of seeing Sunshine moping around the house with a face like a cat's ass.

Coming up behind her, Ted grimaced. "Thank you for that lovely breakfast time image." Michael moved over to make room for him on his side of the booth.

"He's fuckin' eighteen, for Christ's sake. He should be having the time of his life instead of having to deal with your bullshit," she told Brian, shoving her finger in his face.

"He's trying to fix it," Michael said and Brian shot him an angry look.

"How? By hanging out with you clowns?"

Having received a visual warning, Michael clamed up. But he did say to Brian, "You might as well tell her. It's the only way she's gonna get off your back about this. And she'll find out eventually."

Quietly, Brian told her, "I'm seeing...I'm seeing a therapist." He dropped his eyes. "Maybe there's something wrong with me."

And the pain and sorrow in his voice eroded her anger. God, she could never manage to stay mad at him. Maybe because he usually hurt himself more than anyone else. She laid a hand upon his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "There's nothing wrong with you--except that you're a gorgeous, selfish prick who's gotten away with doing whatever he wanted to for way too long." She cupped the side of his face and made him look at her. "I want you to be happy, kiddo. That's all I've ever wanted for you." Taking away her hand, she whipped out her pad and pencil. "Now. What'll it be, boys?"

Ted, Emmett, and Michael ordered their usual breakfast items--Em waffling before making a decision, of course--but when she got to Brian he said, "Just some coffee."

"You can't live on coffee alone."

"I don't want anything else," he said.

Only, they knew that wasn't true. It was just that what he wanted, he couldn't find on the menu. 

 

 

Justin stopped painting and sniffled. Held the roller in one hand and wiped his nose.

"Allergies?" Jen asked.

He shook his head and thumbed at his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Justin." She paused. "I should never have said anything," she said, referring to the conversation they'd had before graduation about Brian's outside activities.

"It wasn't like I hadn't thought about it. And I waited before I asked him. It's not your fault."

"Have you tried talking to him again?"

He resumed applying the primer to the ceiling. "What for? He'd only lie to me again and..." Suddenly his arms felt weak and he lowered the roller.

"How about we take a break?" she suggested.

"We just got started."

"It can wait."

So they went into the kitchen and she poured the coffee and found a couple of donuts in the refrigerator. Nuked the donuts for a few seconds and pushed the plate over to Justin. For once he didn't seem to have any appetite.

Jennifer ruffled his hair and brushed it back from his forehead. "Maybe you should go and see him."

But he disagreed. "It won't solve anything," he told her, thinking of the last conversation they'd had.

"Then it's over?"

A tear welled up in his eye and spilled over onto his cheeks. He let it fall unchecked. "I don't know."

"Is that what you want?"

"No," he answered and another tear joined the previous one.

"Then you have to do something. Justin--your dad and I had problems and we just--we just...we pretended to be too busy, too 'otherwise engaged' to deal with them."

"Do you still love him?"

She wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup. "Of course, I do. Despite everything he's said and done, he's still someone I love very much. But it's too late for us."

"Maybe not."

"Yes," she replied, "it is." And that put to rest any lingering hopes he might have had of them getting back together again. "But it's not too late for you and Brian."

He smiled through his tears. "It's so weird, you wanting us to be together. When you couldn't stand him at first."

"Well," she said, "he takes some getting used to." Smiled. "But when you do...I have to admit: he is charming."

"Too charming," declared Justin. "I want...I keep wanting to..." He turned away.

"I know."

"I still remember how it felt...the first time he told me he loved me. Even though I was in the hospital and felt like crap, I thought I could do anything because he was with me and he loved me. After waiting so long...and it was just like I imagined it would be. It felt so good. So right. I thought nothing could touch us because we belonged together." He laughed bitterly. "Like in one of Molly's fairy tale books." He wiped at his eyes. "But there's no such thing as happily ever after."

Jennifer took his hands in hers and held them tightly. "Yes, there is. But you have to work at it, Justin. And it won't be easy. That's the lie they tell you, that you let yourself believe: that once you fall in love, it's over, the tests are over. But it's not true. The truth is: falling in love is easy, it's living in love that's the hard part." 

 

 

Brian's head brushed against the base of the kitchen counter each time Marcus thrust into him. On his knees, his jeans around his calves, thong underwear twisted in Marcus' hands, Brian squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about what he was doing. But the man's cock and his steady stream of dirty talk kept wrenching him back into the thick of his actions. He could only grunt and gasp as the trick hammered his hole, pounding him nearly senseless. Hands grabbing at the foot railing, Brian gritted his teeth and swallowed a cry that would have awakened all of the building's tenants. He felt like he was being fucked to death. "You thought you were in control, didn't you, Snow White?" Marcus asked, jabbing him hard. "I saw the way you looked at me. Didn't think I noticed, did you?" Brian groaned and tried to pull away but Marcus tightened his grip on the back of his underwear and gave him a couple of hard thrusts. "You're not going anywhere. Thought it was going to be me on my knees taking it up the ass. But look at you." He stabbed Brian's hole. "On the floor, moaning like a bitch."

Changing tactics suddenly, he began withdrawing slowly, then eased his dick back inside. "I love the way you feel... Red lips sliding over my cock... Oh yeah..." He pulled completely out. Rubbed the head against Brian's hole. "Yeah...that feels good." He inserted just the bulb of his cock. Waited. "Now," he said, "open wide." Marcus jammed his dick all the way in and pumped him rapidly. Brian's mouth fell open, saliva dripping down his chin. "Take it. Take it all. That's it, that's it, Snow White. Open up those pretty red lips for me. They're gonna be swollen when I'm done fucking you. Ah, shit! I love fucking tight man pussy. I've fucked plenty of women," he whispered, "but there's nothing like a tight man hole to make me hard." His balls knocked against Brian's ass as he continued to plow into him. "Tighten that hole. Tighten it!" he ordered and he slapped Brian's buttocks hard, making his hole spasm. "I'm gonna screw you, Snow White, 'til your lips are as red as blood." Brian felt tears spring to his eyes as the man increased the force with which he fucked him. Nine inches long with a broad flaring head that stretched his lips as he entered him, the man's cock was formidable. Brian could only crouch on the floor and take it, hope that his hole wasn't stripped when the man was done with him. Finally Marcus began to hump him, leaning over his back, forcing his cock in even deeper, withdrawing less and less until he gave a growl and came. Even with the condom separating them, Brian could still feel Marcus' dick expand, still feel the cum thick inside the head of the rubber, pressing against his hole, filling him to the bursting point.

Waiting but a moment, Marcus wrenched his cock free of Brian's asshole and the ad exec gave a cry and slumped to the floor. Marcus rubbed a thick finger over Brian's lips, swollen and red as he'd promised they'd be. Brian whimpered as the finger eased inside him. "You know you want it, Snow White. Go on, show me what you've got." And Brian turned over onto his back, his cock hard between his legs, having pushed out of his underwear. Taking hold of his dick, he began jerking off, Marcus' finger sliding deep inside him, rubbing against his prostate. "Yeah, baby... Mmmm, show me that cream." He curled his finger and Brian shouted, the pressure against his prostate too much to bear, and a stream of cum spilled over his belly. "Give me some more," demanded Marcus and he twisted his finger inside the sticky, hot asshole. Brian's muscles tensed and his dick spat out another slit full of cum. With his free hand, Marcus grabbed Brian's dick and pressed his thumb over his piss hole. Cum built up behind his fingertip as Brian continued to convulse. Then, gradually, he decreased pressure and the creamy jizz oozed from beneath his finger to run down Brian's cock.

Marcus took off as soon as he could stuff his meat back inside his pants, leaving Brian on the floor, asshole raw and burning. Before he departed, he threw a card down next to the still dazed man. "I'm usually in the city once every two weeks. Call me if you think you can handle some more."

Hearing the door shut, Brian got up gingerly, dropped off his jeans, and headed for the shower.

He'd known going to Woody's would be a mistake. Fortune had smiled upon him twice that weekend in that he hadn't run into Justin at Babylon or the diner, but he knew, eventually, his luck would change. And it had. The moment he'd stepped into the bar, he'd known Justin was there. Forcing himself not to look for the teen, Brian had joined the guys at one of the pool tables and kept his eyes on the green felt top. The guys had suggested going someplace else but he'd refused, angry that Justin was driving them away from one of their favorite places. But in the end, he'd wished that they had gone to another watering hole. Because he couldn't forget Justin was in the bar, sitting somewhere, watching him most likely. And that's when Marcus had appeared. Catching Brian's eye almost instantaneously. Tall, cinnamon-colored skin, close-cropped hair. Brian had allowed his gaze to sweep casually over his basket. And it hadn't disappointed. Tearing his eyes away from the man, he'd made his apologies to the guys and exited the bar. Had become immediately aware of someone behind him. Had heard the deep voice ask, "Where are you going? We haven't even met yet," and had known in an instant that he wanted him.

Driving home, he'd been aware of Marcus following in his car, and his cock had hardened thinking of the man's ass opening up to him. But they'd stumbled up the stairs, kissing, and by the time they'd reached the top and Brian had opened the door, things had turned completely topsy-turvy and Brian had known that he'd be the one giving it up to Marcus. The man had pushed him inside, shut the door, ripped open Brian's jeans, and pulled them down around his knees. Before Brian could have objected, Marcus had forced him to the floor and had slipped a condom over his rampant cock. Brian had only been able to kneel there waiting while Marcus had spat on his hand and rubbed the spittle over his hole and up and down his shaft. It had felt like he was being split in two when Marcus had first entered him and it had taken all of his willpower not to scream out. Gradually, his ass had relaxed and stretched enough to accommodate the man's dick but it had still been a rough ride and Brian had known he'd be sore tomorrow.

Now, Marcus gone, he stood under the shower head and washed away the soapsuds and the cum and the spit and sweat but he couldn't wash away the encounter. Suddenly, having gone weak in the knees, he slid down the wet wall of the shower and sat on the floor. And he cried. Heedless of the water pounding on his head and back. Heedless of the discomfort. Cradling his head on his knees, he let the tears come as they may, making no attempt to check them. As always, he had fucked it up. God How was he going to explain this to Drew? And how was he ever going to get Justin back after this? 

 

 

The first thing the therapist noticed was how Brian wouldn't meet his eyes. Instead of confronting him about it, he asked, "Did you write in the journal?"

"Here," Brian replied, handing it over.

" I want you to read it to me."

"What is this? Fuckin' Sesame Street?"

Drew crossed his legs. "You're defensive. Why?"

"I fuckin' hate reading aloud. I hated it in first grade, I hated it in high school, I hated it in college--"

"I would have thought you were in love with the sound of your own voice," teased Drew. Brian glared at him. "Go on. Humor me."

Brian opened the notebook and began reading. With an attitude. "Saw this guy at the supermarket. I was pissed because I had to stand in this fucking eternity line for fifteen minutes. And it was the express line. Anyway, this guy had on a black Armani sweater. I have one just like it. He was hot. Black hair, grey eyes. He noticed me watching him and he blushed. Straight, but kind of curious. Wondering what it would be like to fuck a guy. I could have done him in a heartbeat." He looked up, finished.

"Read another one."

He rolled his eyes and read another entry. "Guy came up to me in Babylon and tried to grab my ass. Usually that's a big turn-off but he had really beautiful violet eyes. Probably contacts but it was a good look. Really wanted to fuck him but Drew says I should look and not touch. I wasn't feeling much of anything at the time, just a little buzzed cause I'd had a few too many beers but not high. Not really happy, just there I guess."

"Are there any more?"

"A few."

"This time just read the part about how you were feeling."

He skipped the entry on Marcus and read the one he'd written just yesterday. "I really miss him. I haven't been able to sleep for days. I'm tired and I just want to sleep. He used to rub my stomach and it helped me relax." Brian closed the notebook and sat studying the imitation leather cover.

"Tell me about Justin."

"Tell you what?"

"How does he make you feel when you think about him?"

"Doc..."

"Right now. At this moment, how do you feel when you think about Justin?"

Brian held the notebook tight in his hands, nearly bending it in two. "Ashamed," he said at last.

"Why ashamed?"

"Because he loves me so much...and I can't be what he wants me to be."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes." He closed his eyes. "But it isn't enough."

"Why?"

"Because there's something wrong with me," he said and he wanted to curl into a ball and roll someplace out of sight, him, the one who always had to be uppermost in everyone's mind. He wanted to hide. To be forgotten.

"What?" asked Drew. When Brian didn't respond, he urged him to answer. "Brian?"

"I'm a heartless shit." Out of all the things they had ever said to one another, those words of Ted's had struck him and stayed buried in his side like an arrow. Joining the others that had pierced his skin over the years, that had seemed harmless at the time, now grown malignant, their poison spreading throughout his body, his soul, devouring him from within. Until Justin had come.

"You're not heartless. If half of what you've told me is true, you've cared for Justin, watched over him, protected him."

"But I'm no good for him!"

"That isn't true and you know it."

"I'm so fuckin' careless," he said miserably. "I never think first. I never think..." He could see Justin turning away from him--how many times had he turned away?--after he had said something carelessly cruel. And the sight struck him in the heart, pinning him to a tree like St. Sebastian, a martyr to his own weaknesses, his excuses, and thoughtless actions. He swallowed a sob and wrapped his arms about his middle, to protect himself from harm, only the harm was within him.

"You flipped past a page. What was it?" Brian said nothing. "Brian? Brian, what does it say?"

Turning to the page where he'd written about Marcus, Brian looked at the closely written words and he couldn't read it. "I can't."

"Why not?" But Brian didn't answer, just stood and tossed the small notebook onto Drew's lap as he walked past him. He didn't leave the office though, instead he paced about, reminding the therapist of a caged animal. Although he had wanted Brian to listen to his own words in his own voice, Drew opened the notebook and paged through it until he got to an unfamiliar entry. Started reading. "I picked up this trick at Woody's, his name was Marcus." He paused and turned to Brian. "Is this it?"

"Yes," he replied barely above a whisper.

"I know because he left me his card. I'm not too good with names. Not even Justin's, not at first. I saw him at Woody's. Justin. I didn't see him exactly, I felt him. I knew he was there but I didn't go looking for him. Only, I couldn't forget that he was in the same building as me. I thought I was going to go out of my fucking mind wanting to touch him. It didn't make any sense, it makes no sense, why we're not together. I don't know why I do these things." Drew closed the journal, his finger inside the page to keep his place. Located Brian just behind and to the left of him. He was standing with his eyes closed, tears on his cheeks. "I left the bar. I was going home. Alone. Even though I had seen Marcus and wanted him. I don't know why I wanted him, maybe," and Drew could tell that Brian had paused here because the next word was written slightly farther apart and in a slightly different handwriting, still his own but colored somehow by his agitation, "it was because what I really wanted was Justin and I can't have him. Because I'm a fucking idiot. I'm going to lose him. And all I'll have left are these tricks. Whose names I can't even remember." Brian moved again, returned to his seat, head lowered. "What have you learned about yourself?"

"I don't know!" he shouted. "You're the shrink, you tell me," and it wasn't a command, it was a plea.

"I've learned that you use sex." At that Brian shifted in his chair, eyes bright with pain and anger. "You use it as a way of not dealing with your feelings, to keep from being bored, to have something to do, to relieve stress and anxiety..."

Defensive, Brian challenged him, "So?"

"How many times have you actually enjoyed having sex with a trick?"

"I always enjoy it."

Drew accepted his challenge. "All right. Give me an example. Just one. And it can't be anyone you've subsequently gotten involved with."

That cut out Cam and Justin and the guys he'd slept with more than once. He tried to remember any of the others. Remembered the guy from the comic book store. But he hadn't enjoyed it. Had been bored during most of it and the rest of the time he'd been distracted by the drawing Justin had done of him, keenly aware of the dissatisfaction he was feeling. He remembered Marcus, remembered the sensation of the man thrusting inside him, but he hadn't really enjoyed it, because of the guilt he felt.

"You can't, can you? Thousands of tricks and you can't remember one time when you've actually enjoyed having anonymous, one-time only sex." Brian wouldn't look up. "Then why? Why do it?"

"I guess I enjoyed it at the time." But his answer sounded feeble even to him. "So you're saying I shouldn't turn any more tricks just because I've got a shitty memory?"

"I'm saying you should be aware of the reasons why you're doing them. I'm saying that if they don't make you feel anything, if they aren't fulfilling you sexually or emotionally, then you need to ask yourself what it is that you're getting from these encounters. I want you to be in control of your actions and not let your behaviors take control of you." Giving Brian a moment to absorb what he'd said, Drew continued, "These men that you trick with, they're controlling you, using you." When Brian's head snapped up, Drew new he has scored a direct hit. "You think you're using them but what are they getting from you? Just your body? I don't think so. I think, slowly but surely, they're taking your identity away from you. Each time you fuck some guy he takes away another piece of you." He paused. "And it doesn't have to be that way."

Brian said in a soft voice, "You don't know what it's like...to have them look at you with..."

"With what?"

"With expectations in their eyes. It's like this incredible rush... better than anything. Better than drugs, than money, than the sex you're about to have..."

"At what cost?"

"So the answer's not to do it at all?"

"No, the answer is to know yourself." He waited a moment. "I want you to take a good, hard look at your life. Before you met Justin, what did you do besides work and trick?" Brian didn't answer. "What did you do to relax? To take your mind off of your problems?"

"Took drugs," he replied almost under his breath. "Had sex." He paused. "Talked to Mikey."

"You and Michael, did you ever...?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's my best friend."

"And you were never tempted."

"I've known him since we were fourteen."

"That's not what I asked you."

"I started to jack him off once, when we were kids, but his mom walked in on us." The infamous Patrick Swayze Incident.

"And never again?"

"No."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I told you, he's my best friend."

"Someone who cared about you, listened to you, supported you." As his words sank in he continued, "So sex was sex and friendship was something else, something separate."

"Except for Cam," Brian replied in a low voice. God, he hadn't wanted to deal with Cam again but the words had just come out of him without any warning.

"Cam?" Drew was confused, he'd never heard Brian mention a Cam before.

"My first lover." Three little words that meant more than he could ever explain, even if he had a thousand sessions, a hundred thousand.

Sitting back after having leaned forward to hear Brian's explanation, Drew was astounded. "Cam."

Brian stood again, gazed out of the window. He'd known that eventually they'd get around to Cam and he was sure he didn't want to open up that can of toxic waste after having closed the lid on it finally.

"What happened to him?"

"He left me."

"Why?"

"I found out he was turning tricks and I asked him to stop. He wouldn't. I thought I could handle it but... So he left," he replied, knowing that Drew would latch onto it like a leech.

Drew was stunned, yet overjoyed to have found this out. Far from explaining everything it, nevertheless, supplied additional missing pieces of the puzzle. "I'm sorry. It must have been very painful."

Brian shrugged. "It happened a long time ago. We were young, we didn't know how to deal with anything. And afterwards I thought... I figured..."

"What, Brian?"

"That it was better not to get hurt."

"How do you avoid getting hurt?"

"By not caring at all," he said, and he returned to his chair.

"Until Justin," suggested Drew.

He agreed. "Until Justin."

"Do you consider Justin to be a friend?"

"Yes."

"And yet you have sex with him. How do you work that out in your mind?"

Brian shook his head. "I didn't have a choice." He smiled, the first time during the entire session. "He wouldn't leave me alone."

"A man who knows what he wants." Drew watched as Brian's whole demeanor changed. He seemed less burdened somehow, even though Justin and their relationship was the reason why he was in therapy. "You must love him a great deal."

"I do," Brian said simply, no embellishments, no grand gestures. "I love him."

"I think it's time I talked to Justin."

Brian sat up in his chair. "No." Just imagining them here together, helpless beneath Drew's probing mind, terrified him.

"You don't have to be here. I can see him alone or with you in the room but we can't go any further with this without him."

"This has nothing to do with him."

"We both know that isn't true." When no further objections were raised, Drew directed Brian to leave Justin's number with his secretary. "She'll call and make the arrangements. He does know that you're seeing me?"

"He knows that I have seen you, that time before. I didn't tell him I'd started coming again but he probably knows. Deb knows so he probably does. We haven't really talked in over a week."

"Why not?"

Brian fixed his gaze on Drew. "Because we only end up fighting. Or fucking. And neither one of those things is going to solve our problems." And he fell silent. 

 

 

If he'd gotten a call from Ed McMahon saying he'd won the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes he couldn't have been more surprised than when he answered the phone and heard the woman on the other end of the line identify herself as Dr. Becker's secretary. He knew who Dr. Becker was, remembered Brian telling him about the therapist. But to hear his secretary ask him if he could make it to one of Brian's sessions, this Thursday if it was convenient, Justin wasn't prepared at all for that. Still, he managed to find his voice and to assure her that he'd be able to come. Five thirty. Hanging up, he wondered if this was the miracle he'd been waiting for. Although, having talked to a therapist once with his mom when she found out he was gay, he didn't intend to bank on it. 

 

 

"My name is Dr. Becker but you can call me Drew. Is it okay if I call you Justin?"

The teen in question glanced over at Brian, brooding in the corner, emanating an air of discontent and suffering, before answering. "Sure."

"Let me explain the rules." Justin grimaced. More rules. "Brian is going to sit over there and listen while you and I talk for a while. He's not allowed to say anything until we're done or unless one of us asks him a direct question. Is that clear?"

"Yes," replied Justin.

"Is that clear?" Drew asked Brian.

Rolling his eyes, he answered, "Yeah."

"Now, Justin, you know why you're here."

"Sort of."

"Why?"

"Because Brian and I are having some problems." Hearing it said like that made the entire thing seem so simple when it was anything but.

"What kind of problems?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"I want to hear your take on things."

Justin caught his bottom lip between his teeth and held onto it for a moment. "I found out Brian's been turning tricks and I want him to stop but he won't."

"Why?"

Confused, Justin asked, "Why what?"

"Why do you want him to stop?"

"Because we're in a relationship."

"What does that have to do with his tricking?"

"He's fucking other men!" Justin replied hotly.

Refusing to indulge the momentary outburst, Drew remained calm. "What does that have to do with being in a relationship?"

"You're supposed to be faithful."

"And he's not faithful to you?"

"How can he be if he's out turning tricks?"

"Is that what fidelity means to you?"

"Isn't that what it means to everyone?"

"I'm asking you."

"Yes. That's what fidelity means to me. It means you don't fuck other people when you're in a relationship."

"Before you found out, how had his tricking affected your relationship?"

The question threw him. "I don't understand."

"Had you noticed any change in his behavior?"

"No."

"Did you have sex less frequently?"

"No."

"Was he there for you when you needed him?"

"Yes. But--"

"But what, Justin?"

"That's not the point," he replied not feeling very confident about his answer at all.

"Then explain what you mean by being in a relationship and being faithful."

Justin stared at Drew as if he'd suddenly grown two heads and Brian wanted to laugh. He'd been on the receiving end of one of Drew's barrage of questions on more than one occasion and sometimes after they were done with a session he felt lucky to still have any of his wits about him.

Drew folded his hands. "Justin, you were going to explain what it means to be in a relationship and to be faithful."

"It means..." he began and then stopped. Started again. "It means that you're committed to someone."

"Did you believe that Brian was committed to you?"

"Yes."

"Then what changed? Other than the fact that you found out he's been having sexual relations with other men."

"We're not together anymore."

"That was your choice, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but I couldn't--" He fell silent.

"So you chose to end your relationship. Brian slept with a number of men and chose to stay in your relationship and you found out and chose to end it."

Angry, Justin lashed out at Drew. "It's not the way you make it sound!"

"How do I make it sound?"

"Like it's my fault. Like I'm wrong for wanting him to be faithful to me. And I don't care how you try to twist the facts--"

"I haven't twisted any facts. Brian had sex with other men. You found out. You told him to stop. He wouldn't stop. You walked out on your relationship. Have I said anything that's untrue?"

"He made me leave."

Sitting forward Drew studied Justin's face. "How?"

"He wouldn't-- He wouldn't..." Justin didn't finish his thought.

"He wouldn't do what you wanted, is that what you're trying not to say?"

"You make it sound like I'm being unreasonable."

"Does it sound that way to you?"

"Yes!" He avoided looking at Brian. This hadn't gone at all like he'd thought it would. "You're saying I'm wrong to want him to have sex with me and only me."

"No," said Drew, "I'm trying to find out why you feel it's necessary for him to do so."

"Because it hurts me."

"But only after you found out."

"So it's okay for him to lie to me?"

"No." On that he was firm. "No, it wasn't okay for him to lie to you. He should have been honest with you from the beginning about his intentions." There was no objection from the corner so Drew continued. "So, let's get back to my question: why is it necessary for you and Brian to be in a sexually exclusive relationship?"

Softly Justin said, "Because that's the way it's supposed to be. You meet someone and you fall in love and you're supposed to love only them."

"Do you really think Brian loves any of those men?"

"No. I know he doesn't."

"Then what has he done wrong?"

A tear fell from Justin's eye and streaked his cheek. "I don't want anyone else touching him."

Drew leaned back in his chair. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere. How does it make you feel when someone else touches him?"

"Angry."

"Why?"

"Because he's my lover, not theirs." He wiped his face.

"So you're jealous." Justin didn't reply, he didn't need to. Drew turned and caught Brian sniffling and rubbing his eyes. "Do you feel that loving someone gives you the right to control their lives?"

"I'm not trying to control him."

"You want him to stop doing something because you said so, because you can't deal with your jealousy. Wouldn't you call that trying to control someone?"

"I would do the same for him."

"Has he asked you not to be with other people?"

"He knows I wouldn't."

"Have you ever asked him what he expects from you?"

"I would never be unfaithful to him and he knows it. This is a fucking joke!"

"Justin--"

"Just because he wants to do something doesn't make it right."

"You're right. It doesn't. But we're not talking about moral absolutes. We're talking about real life and real people. You fell in love with a man, a real person, not a perfect being. And this man that you fell in love with is telling you that he doesn't consider sexual monogamy to be the same thing as fidelity. He's telling you that he loves you, that he'll be there for you, and all you have to do is to let go of the idea that sex outside of your relationship is wrong. Now, whether it's wrong or not in a perfect world, doesn't matter. This is the world you have to live in so you have to make a decision."

Brian's chest felt tight suddenly and he wanted to cry out and stop Drew from taking them to this point because he wasn't at all sure that Justin wouldn't just get up and leave.

"Either you stay with him or you end it all. No conditions, no promises, no IOUs... Take him as he is or walk away from him."

Justin looked down at his hands. He felt the tears rolling down his face and yet he was too weak to wipe them away. He was aware of Brian sitting in the corner, on the edge of his seat, waiting for his decision. They were both so afraid that this was the end that they could hardly breathe.

Not at all certain that he was doing the right thing at this moment, Drew prodded softly, "Justin...?" The teenager raised his head. "I know it's hard, it's probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do but you have to make a decision."

"I can't leave him."

"Yes, you can. If that's what you want."

Brian started to speak then remembered his promise. With difficulty, he remained silent.

"I don't want to leave him," the teen said softly. "I love him."

"Warts and all?" asked Drew smiling gently.

Justin smiled through his tears. "Warts and all."

Feeling that he had been released from his promise, Brian piped up, "I do not have warts."

"Who told you you could speak?" asked the therapist. He turned to Justin. "He's definitely not perfect."

Giving himself permission to look at Brian, Justin replied, "It's okay."

"You sure?" Justin nodded. Drew signaled to Brian and the man took his place at Justin's side. Reached for Justin's hand and then stopped mid-action. Becker noticed and shook his head. "Go on." Brian closed his hand around Justin's and nearly sighed. Justin looked over at him and laced his fingers through Brian's. Then Drew spoke. "Just don't get too comfortable. You two aren't done. This is just a beginning. A very good beginning but you're not done by a long shot. I want you to do something for me." He watched as Brian's face darkened with comprehension. "An assignment." 

 

 

Michael kissed his mom in greeting and sat down next to his Uncle Vic on the sofa. "So, I guess it's official, the Boy Wonder and Fuckman are back together again."

"Yep," Vic replied.

"You probably won't see Justin ever again."

Deb frowned. "Actually, he's been home every night since they made up."

Vic concurred. "I don't think they're sleeping together."

He got up and grabbed a soda from the fridge. "That doesn't make any sense."

At that moment the object of their conversation walked through the door. "Hey."

"Hey," Michael replied. "Where's Brian?"

Just then a second person came through the door. Someone who was most emphatically not Brian. All three members of the Grassi-Novotny clan blinked, not believing their eyes. He was a twink, maybe twenty-one, twenty-two, curly brown hair, green eyes. He turned to Justin, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "You sure this is okay?"

"Sure. They're just...different." He tugged on the guy's arm. "It's this way." And they disappeared upstairs into his room.

Michael closed his mouth. "What the fuck was that all about?"

"I don't know but I think it's time for some divine intervention," said Deb.

Checking his watch, Vic announced, "Well, it's not midnight yet so, technically, he can have whomever he wants up there."

"But--"

"No buts." Vic picked up the paper. "You wanna go see a movie?" 

 

Justin heard the door close downstairs and relaxed. This would go a whole lot easier if they weren't down there listening. Elliot kissed the side of his neck and pulled up his tee-shirt, his fingers reaching for his tits. As Justin fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, he wondered if Brian had had any luck. 

 

 

At that moment Brian was lying on his bed, some guy telling him he was beautiful and he couldn't help but wonder if Justin was up in his room getting laid. 

 

 

"So what happened?" asked Drew.

"I picked up this guy at Babylon and took him home."

"Same thing." Brian replied.

"And...?"

"And what?"

"What happened?"

"We had sex." Brian looked at Drew as if he had suddenly asked what planet they were on.

"And...?"

"And what?"

"And what did you feel?"

"I didn't feel anything."

"I wanted it to be over," Justin said. He paused and Brian looked questioningly at him. They hadn't discussed the tricks before now. "He wasn't that good."

"And did you feel jealous?" Drew waited for Justin to answer.

"No. Not really."

"Why not?"

"I guess because I knew he really wanted to be with me. Because we had talked about it."

"So it didn't bother you?"

The teen glanced at his lover before answering. "It bothered me. Some."

"Why?"

A little ashamed of his possessiveness, Justin replied, "I still don't like the idea of someone else touching him."

"What about you? Does it bother you to think about Justin with someone else?"

Remembering how he had felt when he saw Justin with Sean in the backroom at Babylon, remembering Justin's words the next day at the diner, I told him he could see me in his dreams, Brian replied, "No. Because I know he's not trying to hurt me. I know they don't mean anything to him, that what he really wants is me."

"Now, here's what I want you to do next."

"Next? Wait a minute, Doc, can we or can we not have sex?" Justin nodded enthusiastically, all for the idea. "With one another?"

"Not exactly. Not yet."

"Fuck," Justin groaned. He was gonna die if he didn't get with Brian soon.

"Just one more thing. Trust me, you'll feel better if you do this."

Brian looked skeptical. "Why don't I believe you?" 

 

 

_Sliding past the bouncer. Feeling the man's hand brush against his hip in a movement that is so smooth, so soothing, that he presses back in answer. His heart beats in time to a thumping bass line coming from the depths of the club. Babylon. Promises, promises. Sweat beads up on his brow in anticipation. All around him, men gyrate on the dance floor. Strobe lights pick out heads, torsos here and there. Fireflies in the night._

_Saying nothing, he turns down one, two, three offers to join the seething mass. They like what they see: muscular frame, deep brown eyes, smooth skull, skin like light brown sugar... He keeps on moving. Weaving in and out of the crowd. Penetrating deeper and deeper. In search of something--someone special. Already so hot that he feels like coming out of his shirt. The nearly see-through lycra material scrapes his nipples. They stand out from his chest. Sensitive. Tingling._

_From behind someone touches him. Hand presses between his shoulders. He turns and the man slips his arm around his waist and draws him into his personal space. Not asking. Commanding. Whispering with his hazel eyes: Don't think. Don't worry. Just move. Come on. Usually he's the one who moves first, who does the mesmerizing. But this guy, he's something special. Shaking off his misapprehensions, he begins to dance._

_His partner grins, then closes his eyes. They are already connected. He knows without looking where Nic is at all times. Bodies never more than a foot apart. The music twines about them, draws them closer. Despite the heat, they come together. Two palms cup his ass and his cock grinds against another. When the hands move on, up, he grabs the other man's ass to keep them together. Fuck. Yeah. "Brian," the man mouths._

_"Nic." The hands slide under his shirt, up his ribs. Hot flesh on hot flesh. The thumbs brush over his nipples and he throws his head back, thrusts his hips forward. A hundred circles are drawn over and around the tips, each one urging him to thrust harder, faster. His t-shirt is up around his armpits. Men look on fascinated by his hard body.._

_One breaks from his partner and sidles up behind him. Nic is barely aware of him, but his body responds. Buttocks switch from a thrusting motion to a stroking one. Rubbing against the man's crotch. Feeling his cock swell. Neck exposed, he moans as his first partner begins to kiss his throat. He is being humped from both sides. His t-shirt is pulled over his head. Greedy hands scrabble over his chest, his shoulders, his belly. Fingers undo his belt. Unzip his pants._

_Nic tastes a tongue in his mouth. Feels a hand on his cock. His pants are opened... The music throbs. His cock surges. They need some privacy. Brian crooks his finger. He picks his shirt up from the floor. Leaves with the other two dancers. Every other man in the club readjusts his cock and tries to forget that he isn't part of the departing group._

_Brian has a jeep. Heedless of the danger, Nic gets in front, next to him. He's never been in a situation he couldn't handle. "That's Justin," Brian says as the other man--a teenager really--climbs in back. Head brushing against the headrest, he licks his lips as they fondle him. The boy, Justin, twists his head around and kisses him from the back seat, sucking on his tongue. He catches a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. This is going to be one hot night._

 

Nic, like everyone else who had ever passed through the apartment, noted that Brian had a fuckin' fabulous loft but he only spared it a second as there was a much more spectacular view before him: Justin's ass switching as he walked. Those jeans were leaving nothing to the imagination. And that was just one half of the feast. Catching a glimpse of Brian out of the corner of his eye, he smiled. Slender, good shoulders, long legs, and those lips... Meeting a couple like this had always been a dream of his. Justin took his hand and guided him to the bedroom. To the bed. Huge. An alter to sensuality. The blue neon light above the bed cast everything in a haze that revealed the room's real purpose: sex.

He allowed Justin to remove his shirt while they kissed, him squeezing and kneading the teenager's plump ass. To fuck that ass, hear him moan through those thick lips... Brian came up behind his lover and kissed his neck, pulled his t-shirt over his head to bare his shoulders which he licked. While Justin and Nic continued to kiss. Brian's hands met his as they covered every inch of the boy's torso and back in a hurried but studious manner. Brian rubbed Justin's tits, his belly, fingers becoming entwined momentarily in his gold waist chain. Then he unbuttoned and unzipped Justin's pants. Nic helped him push the jeans down around the teenager's knees and then Brian fondled his cock and balls while Nic concentrated on his ass: Brian content to feel him through his underwear, Nic reaching inside to cup his bare flesh.

Two men were touching him, pleasuring him. He felt his cock respond to Brian's confident strokes, his ass tingled as Nic's fingers inched down between his cheeks to probe for his hole. And then Nic and Brian kissed over his shoulder, their lips pressed tightly together, Brian chewing on the man's mouth the same way he gnawed on Justin's. For a moment the boy was jealous, angry that Brian was kissing a stranger the way he kissed him and then Brian pulled away from Nic and eased Justin's head around, kissed him hungrily, his hand tightening around his lover's cock, and Justin forgot to be jealous, forgot to be angry, forgot where he was...

The two older men stripped and then dropped to their knees. Finished pulling Justin's clothes off. Nic lifted the teen's cock and licked the meaty head. Heard Justin sigh. Wouldn't be long before he'd start moaning, Nic guessed. Behind Justin, Brian kissed his ass, brushing his cheek against Justin's, sliding his hand between his thighs to stroke his sac, thumb his hole. And then Justin gasped and Brian's head moved lower as he ate out Justin's ass. But Nic focused his attention on the mouthful before him. Gave him a long, slow lick all the way from the base to the tip. Took the teen's cock into his mouth and began sucking him off. As he had imagined, it didn't take long for Justin to start moaning, and it drove him crazy, that low moan so much deeper, huskier than his normal speaking voice. Nic's dick twitched a little. Oh, man, to be buried to the balls in his ass hearing him moan like that. Nic increased pressure on Justin's cock, tightening his lips around the base and Justin rose up on his tiptoes.

It took Brian a second to get used to hearing Justin moan for someone else yet it still made him hot, still made him want to fuck Justin until he screamed. And tonight he had to share him, had to share his little boy with someone else and he clamped down on a sudden desire to get rid of their guest. They had all night, more than enough time to fulfill all their needs.

He lay on the bed, on his back, legs akimbo while they devoured him, both men at his cock, licking and sucking it, then his balls... raising his legs and going for his hole. If there was anything better than the taste of Justin's meat, it was his ass, and Nic worked his tongue in and around the rosy hole until his head swam and his cock stiffened. Gradually all three shifted positions until they formed a rough circle: heads at groins, cocks in mouths. It didn't matter who sucked whom as the energy formed by their actions circulated among the three of them, making them harder, hungrier.

Almost as if they were connected, both Nic and Brian moved to Justin's head and held out their dicks. The teen got to his knees and alternated between the two of them, doing his best to please two demanding men, sucking two succulent cocks. Moving as close to him as they possibly could, they experimented with easing both their hard, hot heads into his mouth. Justin's lips stretched around them, unable to take them both entirely but what he did manage to stuff into his mouth, he licked furiously.

Whenever Nic's dick brushed against Brian's inside Justin's mouth, both men moaned. God, to feel another man's cock head rubbing against your own, forced to occupy the same confined space... There was something about the situation that aroused them, it was like being imprisoned and forced to take pleasure whatever pleasure you could with your cellmate, regardless of your feelings for him. Only, they had no inhibitions to stand in their way.

After a few minutes of being blown, both men moved to his hips. They wanted his hole. Brian slid a well-lubed finger inside Justin and gave him a few strokes. Then Nic joined him, their two fingers working him until he relaxed, his lips becoming more and more pliable. As they finger fucked him, they kissed. Nic loved the feel of Brian's mouth on his, remembering how those same lips had felt wrapped around his cock during their circle suck. Definitely could do with some more of that. Maybe Brian would even let him fuck him, fuck that tight little ass. He got off on riding another top, especially one as beautiful as Brian. Something of what he desired must have shown on his face because Brian lowered his head and lapped at his cock, still working his finger in and out of Justin's hole.

Nic's cock sank into Brian's mouth and every time a pulse went through his dick he thrust his finger hard into Justin so that it was as if Brian were fucking Justin with his mouth and tongue. He felt so connected to them, to the man and his teenaged lover, that it seemed to him as if he had had always been here having sex with them.

Justin began moaning even louder as they played with his ass, twisting their fingers as they penetrated and withdrew, curling the tips, alternating in their strokes. Brian released Nic's cock and looked up at him. Without speaking he communicated his desire, Justin's desire.

And Nic understood. "Are you sure?"

Brian leaned over and kissed Justin's shoulder. "You sure, baby?" Justin could only manage to nod. "You wanna stop, you say it and we'll stop."

But Justin shook his head. "I wanna do this."

Muscles bulging, kneeling with his thighs spread wide apart, Nic held Justin steady as the teen climbed onto his lap and felt for his dick, positioned it against his hole which was smeared with lube, and lowered his hips. As always there was a little pain but he took Nic with no more difficulty than he experienced with Brian. Hooking his feet behind Nic's thighs, Justin slowly impaled himself. He rested against Nic's chest, solid with muscle, while he adjusted to his thickness and length. "Oooo," he sighed and he rose up again, Nic's dick sliding out of him. He paused at the tip and took another inch in before stopping again. Waited. Nic, entranced by the gold ring through his tit, tugged on it with his teeth making Justin hiss. Encouraged by Justin's reaction, Nic licked his nipple and was rewarded with a smile.

Brian lubed his cock even though he had slathered lubricant over and inside Justin's hole and over Nic's meat but he didn't want anything to go wrong, didn't want Justin to feel any unnecessary pain. He had been in threesomes before but never where the bottom had consented to take both of them at once. Kneeling between Nic's thighs, Brian grasped his dick by the base with one hand and gently eased his finger into Justin's ass alongside Nic's cock. With the greatest of care, he worked his finger all around Justin's hole while Nic groaned and grunted, crazed by the feel of Brian's finger rubbing up against him. Brian listened and watched for any sign that Justin might have changed his mind, might be experiencing pain but the teen only moaned and muttered the way he did when he was aroused. And Brian whispered to him, "You are so hot. My hot little boy. Nobody's better than you." He eased his cock inside Justin's hole, pressing against Nic's shaft. "You can take it. Take all of it. Take it all. Open that hole. Open your hot, little hole."

Justin's mouth fell open and he gave a cry as Brian entered him, stretching his lips to the limit. Brian paused, waiting for his signal. "Don't stop," he moaned. Reached back and ran his hand over Brian's hip. "Don't stop." A tear squeezed out of the corner of his eye and he bit his lower lip as Brian continued his slow entry.

Nic stroked his ass, kneaded it, hoping to relax him, to arouse him, take his mind off of the discomfort he was feeling but the truth was he was barely holding it together himself. It felt fuckin' incredible the edge of Brian's head raking against his shaft as it inched up Justin's hole. The way the other man's dick forced his tight against the inner walls of the teen's ass. He could feel every gradation in texture, could have mapped the surface for future explorers on the basis of his experiences.

Stopping with just two-thirds of his meat embedded, Brian paused to let them all adjust to the tight fit. Justin's chest was rising and falling rapidly. He kissed the teen's shoulders and neck, whispered in his ear, "I love you."

Justin turned his head and they kissed. Then he said, low and smoky, "Fuck me." The timbre and tone of his voice sent a shiver down Brian's spine. "Fuck me," he said again and Brian's cock throbbed.

Then Brian began to move again, withdrawing just as slowly as he had entered his lover. When he reached the entrance of Justin's hole, he paused but a moment before penetrating him once more. This time the movement was quicker, smoother. Instead of plumbing his depths, Brian opted to keep his strokes fairly shallow, to acclimate them all to the feeling, the fit first.

There wasn't much Nic could do but remain still, his position didn't allow for much else, still it didn't matter, he was in fuckin' heaven, the way Brian's shaft slid against his inside the teen's tight hole was making him crazy. He'd never felt anything like it; not even when he'd jacked off with some guy, his hand around both their dicks, it hadn't been like this.

God, Nic's cock felt amazing. Even through two condoms he could feel the thick vein that ran down the belly of his dick and every time it pulsated Brian cried out. "Oh, fuck..." he moaned. "Oh..." It was as if he had two cocks, they were so close, so intimately entwined.

Nic changed positions, put his arms out behind him for support and began pumping his hips, thrusting his cock up into Justin and the new motion kicked things up a notch, driving the breath from their lungs. Nic moaned as they pumped their hips, jabbing Justin's ass. "Shit!" he uttered and a spasm gripped his belly. Oh God, how much longer could he stand this? And then he heard Brian again.

"Fuck, baby. You are the best. The best. Oh, baby. Oh, baby," he whispered and it sounded like a prayer.

Justin twisted above them, his hole continuing to adjust to the onslaught of two dicks. Whereas they had been gentle at first, now they gave over to their desires, stabbing his asshole with abandon, trusting him to call a halt to the proceedings if it proved to be too much. But he just rode them, cries erupting like lava from his lips to flow over them, burning their skins, compelling them to jump and twitch. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever seen himself like this. He didn't even know who he was. If he had seen his face at that moment, it would have been the face of a stranger and yet it was his face. Had this person he'd become been there all along, waiting for someone to find him, to discover him hidden among the sketch books and the school uniforms, the Mountain Dew cans, and Moby CDs, concealed by Justin's innocence? Waiting for Brian to arrive, to hold out his hand and say, 'Come with me.' Justin gave a strangled cry and his hole tightened around them. "Oh, God..." His head fell forward and he rose up and slumped down again.

"That's it, baby. That's it," moaned Brian. "Fuck those cocks. You fuck em." He slipped one hand between Justin and Nic, closed his fingers around the teen's rock-hard cock. It throbbed and he felt the sticky wetness of precum ooze from its hole. He squeezed the head and Justin's ass tightened around them. Justin began pumping his ass ever so slightly, forcing his dick through Brian's fist. The motion of his hips sent the two men spiraling out of control and they poked his hole, their strokes uneven and ragged.

Their bodies were slick with sweat and Nic felt like he had traveled to the mouth of a volcano and jumped inside. His balls ached and his cock was raw from rubbing up against Brian's. Justin bucking above them spurred him on towards his climax. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shouted and came. He wondered how it felt to Brian, having another man's cock throb against yours as he blew his load and then he didn't have to wonder as Brian erupted. The sensation of Brian's dick pulsing, expanding in the confined space ripped another spurt out of him. If it felt this good to him, Christ only knew how it felt to Justin... But his question was answered as the teen whimpered, jerking about, and then his entire body stiffened and he cried out, "Fuck!" Nic's belly became wet with the teenager's cum. "Oh, fuck..."

Brian continued to pull on his cock, drawing out every last drop. "That's it, baby. Drench him." He rubbed his fingers over the teen's piss hole, a final surge of cum dribbling from the tip. "Oh, yeah, baby." He kissed Justin's neck, his wet hair brushing against his lips. "That's my baby... That's my little boy." 

 

By the time Nic left the next morning they had fucked two more times in the night: him mounting Brian and Brian mounting him, each of them sucking Justin off as they were pounded from behind. In between the main events there had been plenty of horseplay, plenty of cock sucking and ass eating. When they finally settled in for a couple hours sleep, they were thoroughly drained. Nic didn't know where he found the strength to get up and dress but he did. Accepting a cup of coffee, he leaned against the counter and stared at them, sitting together at the dining table, not touching, yet connected. It was as if an invisible cord ran from one to the other. He could see that, could see that what they had given him was more than sex, more than one night's passion, they had let him into their lives, if only for a brief moment. And as satisfied as he was by the sex they had had, he couldn't help but feel a little sad, standing on the outside as it were. He knew, without even asking, that there wouldn't be a repeat of the night's activities. They had had him, didn't need him. They were enough, in and of themselves.

Placing his coffee cup on the counter, he smiled and made his way to the door unescorted. Just as he was about to pull it open, he heard them behind him. Turned. Justin kissed him softly and gave him a shy smile. Nic had never seen a more beautiful one. He thought he would never forget it. Then the teenager walked away, leaving him with Brian. Who didn't smile, only gave him a thoughtful look, his lips slightly parted. He leaned into Nic and kissed him as well, but not softly, not shyly as Justin had. When they broke away from each other, Nic was breathing a little faster. Fuck, he could feel his cock stir. It was then that Brian grinned and pulled open the door. Understanding perfectly, Nic walked out of the loft. And out of their lives. For good.

Brian returned to the bedroom to find Justin pulling clean clothes from his drawers. "You too?"

Softly, "Yeah."

He gathered the teen into his arms. Kissed him and the effect on Justin was much the same as it had been on Nic. "You sure?"

"We promised Dr. Drew," he said, pulling away with more than a little regret.

Grumbling, Brian went to hunt for something to put on as well so he could take Justin home. 

 

 

The therapist waited until they were both seated and comfortable before asking his first question of the session. "How was it?"

Ever consider a career as a pornographer?" Brian asked.

"All the time," confessed Drew. "I used to dream of being Chi Chi LaRue. So?"

"Ask sexy boy."

Justin grinned. "It was fucking intense."

"Yeah. Come on, don't be stingy. I want details."

As Brian laughed, Justin satisfied the therapist's needs. "We picked up this totally hot guy at Babylon and took him back to the loft and fucked all night long."

"All of you?"

"All of us. I even took both of them inside me at the same time."

"Fuck..."

"Is that your learned opinion as a therapist, Doc?" asked Brian.

"No," he replied, "it's my personal comment as a horny, gay man."

"My ass is still a little sore," Justin revealed, "but it was worth it."

"And how did it feel, to see Brian with someone else?"

"At first it bothered me, that someone else could make him feel the way I do and then he looked at me and he kissed me and I realized that no one else could. That out of all the guys he could have picked to be with, to have in his life, he picked me." Justin smiled. "I guess that makes me pretty special."

"I guess it does," agreed Drew.

"And you should have seen Nic's face when he pushed inside me. It was like he had never fucked anyone like me before."

Brian said, "He hadn't. And he never will again."

"How about you?" Drew turned to the older of the pair. "How did it make you feel?"

Brian was silent for a long while as he thought of all the things he could possibly say and then he spoke. "Lucky. That he's with me, that he loves me and puts up with my shit." He glanced down momentarily and then back up again. "He makes me feel like I deserve to be loved. That I'm worth having."

As Drew listened to Brian's words, he wished he could convince the man to stick with the therapy after this crisis had passed but he knew Brian would refuse. So all he could do was deal with the problem at hand. "Okay, the fun part is over, now comes the hard part. I think you need to establish some ground rules about tricking. I think you can do that now and stick to them since you know where you stand. So how about it?" Neither of them dissented. "Good. Let's start with the big question: Is it allowed? Is it acceptable for the two of you to have sex outside of your relationship?"

"It's okay," Justin answered.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I know that he loves me and I love him. There's no one out there who can change that."

Drew wrote down on a sheet of legal paper: Non-monogamous at this stage. "You know," he explained, "that you can change this at any time, provided you talk about it. You might find that things have changed, that it's important for you to have a monogamous relationship at some juncture, but whatever you decide, talk about it first and really be honest about your feelings." He caught Brian looking a little put-out. "All right, enough of the touchy feely stuff. Next question. Do you think it's a good idea to talk about it after it happens? Do you want to know when the other one's picked up someone?"

"I guess it depends on why it happened," said Justin.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if it's just fucking some guy cause he's hot, then I don't need to know. But if it's because there's some problem between us, then I want to know."

"You agree with that?"

Brian nodded. "Only, it shouldn't get to that point. We ought to be able to talk about our problems," he said mimicking the tone Drew took whenever he was lecturing him about opening up.

"You promise to do that?" asked Drew. "To talk about what's bothering you?"

"I'll try," he replied, suddenly serious.

So Drew wrote down: Talk about tricking only if there's a problem. "What about where the tricking takes place?"

Justin squirmed and Brian noticed. "What?"

"I don't want you fucking some guy in our bed."

"Our bed?"

"Our bed."

"What about your bed at Deb's?"

"There either. There's plenty of other places to fuck."

"What if we pick up someone together?"

"Then it's okay.

Drew smiled. Wrote as he spoke. "No tricking in the bed unless you're in a threesome together."

Brian raised his eyebrows and said to Justin, "You're a freak." The teen giggled.

"Good. Let's recap. No tricking in the bed and if you're tricking because there's a problem between the two of you, then you need to talk about it. Anything else?"

"No seeing the same guy twice," Brian added.

"You agree?" Justin agreed. "Okay, no repeats." Wrote it down. "Anything else?"

"No one we know," suggested Justin. "No friends or co-workers," he clarified.

"Brian?"

"Believe me, I've learned my lesson." At Drew's confused look, he explained, "You don't want to know."

For a moment Justin wondered if he ought to tell Brian how he got off, why Kip dropped the lawsuit and then he decided, for better or worse, not to reveal his secret. Not yet.

"What about turning tricks when you're together? Do you want to be there watching Brian with another man and vice versa?"

Justin curled his lips in a sexy grin. "Might be kinda hot."

"You must have really enjoyed yourself the other night," Drew commented. He smiled. "I think you're going to be just fine. But I want you to do something for me." Brian groaned. "No, no, it's not like that. I want you to take these rules and put them somewhere safe and don't forget them. Take them out and look at them every once in a while and talk about it, see if they're still working for you. And if they're not, change them. And if you need help, come back and see me and we'll talk about it together. Just as long as you both agree." He grinned, anticipating Brian's reaction to his next statement. "And one last thing: love each other."

Brian cocked an eyebrow. "That it?"

"That's it." Drew paused. "Now, if you want to know the secret of the universe, it'll cost you extra."

Ignoring Drew's joke, Brian studied his lover's face. "Do you mind if we use your office for fifteen, twenty minutes?" Brian asked, a gleam in his eye. It was matched by an identical one in Justin's.

"It's your ducats," replied Drew, rising. "I'll just be outside."

But they didn't hear him, they had already risen from their seats and had come together in a kiss that was only broken during the next minute to whisper, "I've missed you." "I've missed you." "I love you." "I love you." Somehow during that minute they also managed to partly undress and upon parting at last they completed the job, coming together for a second time naked and partially aroused. As they kissed Justin stroked Brian's meat, getting him harder, rubbing the palm of his hand over the bulbous head once he was erect. Taking the condom from Brian he tore open a packet of lube and squeezed a drop inside, slipped the rubber over his penis and slathered the rest of the lubricant over the outside. "Always prepared," he whispered and Brian laughed throatily. Wrapping his arms around Justin's waist, Brian lifted him and the teen encircled Brian's waist in turn with his legs. Brian carried him to the nearest wall and leaned Justin against it. Then carefully, slowly entered him. Leg's bent slightly, Brian began pumping and Justin started moaning. Although he was still a little sore from Saturday's activities, he welcomed his man's cock every way he knew how, squeezing his hole as Brian tried to exit and opening wide as he made his way back inside, milking Brian's dick with his ass the way he did with his mouth. Although his back rubbed roughly against the wall, he felt no discomfort, could only feel the fullness in his hole as Brian penetrated him. His head lolled about as he fought the impulse to scream but then Brian wiggled his hips and whispered, "Sing to me, baby."

And he sang. "Oh God fuck me fuck me don't stop don't oh oh God it feels so good you're so hard so hard so big so I just I mmm oh oh Brian Brian oh oh shit oh God I want your cock just just don't stop don't yes yes yes mmm my ass fuck me oh fuck me I love your cock I love it I love ahhh ohh oh oh fuck me," he begged. "Fuck me..."

"I'm fucking you, baby."

"Don't stop."

"I won't. I'm gonna fuck you 'til you scream."

"Don't--Ah!" Justin arched his back. He reached for his cock and tugged on it. It had been dripping precum steadily for a while. In an instant he came, splattering both their bellies with creamy cum.

Brian, whose back and legs had begun to tire, flexed his hips, his cock massaged by Justin's convulsing asshole, and shot his load, grunting deep in his throat. "I missed you," he sighed as the last of his cum filled the tip of the condom.

"I missed you," said Justin and he reached up and brushed Brian's damp hair from his face.

"Don't ever go again."

"I won't. I promise."

From outside the office they heard a knock and then, "Are you through in there? My six thirty appointment's gonna be here in ten minutes."

Brian withdrew from Justin's hole and set the teen on his feet. Laying his head against Justin's shoulder, he laughed and replied, "If we're not out by then, bill me." 

 

Having driven home still sticky and smelling of cum, they showered and slept for a while, then got up and fixed dinner, and ate by candlelight even though they were only having curry chicken salad on pumpernickel. Afterwards, Brian disappeared into his closet and returned with something behind his back. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

So Justin closed his eyes and waited. Then Brian gave him the go ahead to open his eyes. He did. Click. "What the--what was that?" he asked before getting a good look at what Brian had in his hands. "A camera?"

"A very expensive camera. A Canon Single-Lens-Reflex camera."

He knew Brian had an automatic 35mm that he had bought when they were getting ready to go to the Bahamas. Why would he want something like a SLR? That was what photographers used: professionals and serious amateurs. "What for?"

"My new hobby."

Justin couldn't believe his ears. Brian? With a hobby?

"I'm going to be the next Diane Arbus," Brian announced, thinking of all the pictures he'd take of his little boys.

And, of course, he aimed high. Grinning, Justin said, "More like Robert Mapplethorpe."

"Even better." He took another picture. "Smile." And another.

Brian had done this for them, to keep them strong. Justin's eyes started to tear up. "I love you." Click.

"How much?" Brian asked before he realized what he had done and he froze. He imagined them, trapped like this, inside a photograph, and it would be entitled, 'The Moment the World Changed'.

Justin smiled, blissfully unaware of the historical significance of their exchange, responding only to the question, only with his heart. "More than anything in the world," he replied.

And Brian believed him. After all, the camera didn't lie.


	9. Snapshots/36 Views of Mt. Fuji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A "no deep story here, it's all about sex" fic wherein Brian gets to use his new camera.

At first glance, he supposed if someone were to take a photograph of him at that moment, they would call it "Man Alone in a Loft" and, upon closer inspection, maybe re-title it "Man Looking at Photos" but taking a more in-depth look they'd name it, finally, "Man with an Erection". Which he had. He could feel it pressing against the leg of his sweats. Reaching down, his fingers encountered a wet spot. Fuck. Where was Justin when he wanted him? Of course, Justin was the reason he had a woody anyway. He was looking at photographs of the teen, pictures he had taken earlier that week. Justin had spent all but one of the past eight nights at the loft and it was only because Deb had called and ordered him home that he hadn't spent all of the nights with his lover. Brian didn't expect him back tonight. When Justin phoned him at work today, he mentioned his mom coming over to Deb's place for dinner. Which meant Brian was stuck at home alone with a hard-on that was getting harder by the minute. One solution would have been to beat off and the other to stop looking at the photographs but he didn't want to do either. So he poured himself another drink and continued examining the black and white snapshots, immersing himself in a past filled with color. 

**#1; #2; #3**

Watching Justin sketch was to watch a world come into being. A world filled with beautiful-bodied men; where inanimate objects took on a life of their own; and the ordinary, the everyday became something wonderful because he showed you something new and different about it, that you'd been too busy, too blind to see. Justin saw those things and more. But the real wonder, to Brian, lay not in his eyes but in his hands. The easy way he held his pencil, his fingers somehow knowing what to do to translate vision into texture and depth. That was the magical part. Standing a few feet away, Brian took picture after picture of Justin sketching.

The teen glanced up. "What are you doing?"

"Taking pictures of you," snorted Brian. Sometimes Justin asked the dumbest questions.

"Go away. You're bothering me." He returned to his work and Brian took another shot. "Brian!" He started to rise and Brian moved backwards, still snapping away. "Stop it." Brian laughed and continued to capture the teen on film. Justin flipped him the bird and that only made the amateur photographer laugh harder and take more pictures of his magical fingers. Looking behind him every now and again to make sure he wasn't about to trip over a table or chair, Brian fled the advancing teenager, all the while photographing every shift in emotion. Finally, Justin gave up and covered his face, his features barely visible between his fingers, and Brian wanted to tell him his hands were what he'd been interested in anyway. But instead of talking, he took pictures until Justin came and pushed the camera away from his face and kissed him. 

 

**#4; #5; #6**

Pulling away from Brian, eyes sparkling with mischief, Justin crooked his finger and walked backwards towards the bedroom. "Put the camera down," he said, enticement in his voice, echoed by his eyes which had darkened with desire.

"Why?"

"I"ll make it worth your while," Justin promised.

"I like taking pictures of you." Brian paused and added, "The way you draw me when I'm asleep." He snapped another picture. "Why do you wait until I'm asleep?"

"It's the only time when you're ever still. And even then you move around a lot. Plus… " he hesitated, unsure if he should say anything more.

"Plus what?"

"It's the only time you really let your guard down."

Brian stared at his eyes through the viewing window, aware of the irony: looking through a window into another set of windows, the windows to Justin's soul as it were, as the poets so named them, and he imagined that if he could see the teen's soul it would be as clear as his eyes, like the sky on a summer day. 

 

**#7; #8; #9; #10**

Brian having promised him that it would be hot, Justin allowed his lover to bring his camera into their bedroom. In fact, although he tried to hide it, Justin found the idea intensely erotic. Imagining the guy's surprise at the photo lab when he processed the photos. They've probably seen worse, he told himself. Even more stimulating was the thought of Brian pouring over them alone in the loft, getting a hard-on from staring at the pictures of his beautiful boy, his baby. God, Justin loved it when Brian called him baby. Didn't really know why it turned him on so but it did. Even when they were just sitting around, watching TV or something, sometimes Brian would say, "Hand me the paper, baby," if he was closer to it or, "Baby, where's the remote?" and it would make him shiver. It made him feel safe too, protected, the way Gus must have felt whenever his Dadda held him in his arms. Just one word, baby, did all that.

Having shed his clothes, Justin asked, "What do you want me to do?" because Brian's camera had been silent the whole while. As had Brian. Justin neared him and the man put the camera aside. In an instant their mouths joined together. To be able to kiss one another and know that this was just the beginning, that they had years ahead of them, that they'd been lucky enough to find each other in time… it never failed to amaze either of them. Hands sliding over Brian's shoulders, Justin could feel his muscles shift as they moved one against the other. They parted and Justin brushed his lips over the length of Brian's neck.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Brian and the teen licked the hollow of his throat.

He backed away and sat on the bed. "I'm sure." Waiting. Legs spread open in invitation, his cock and balls resting upon the mattress between his thighs.

Eyes never leaving the teen's groin, Brian reached for his camera and photographed his genitals. "Beautiful," he whispered, gaze lingering on his balls, so smooth from their most recent shave. He recalled Justin holding his legs up and apart--no need for the ropes now, unless they were feeling kinky--while he lathered his scrotum, then shaved it clean of the fine, blond hairs that had sprouted since the youth's last barbering. Returning to the present, he told Justin, "Lie on your back."

The teen having complied, Brian stood over him and studied the white expanse of his body and his eyes were drawn to his nipples. Flat, wide circles of pink flesh, like lush oases in the midst of a pale desert. The times he had found nourishment and pleasure there were numerous as he'd traveled the length and breadth of the teen's body. Justin had taken out the nipple ring and replaced it with a silver bar--"Just to see," he had said--and Brian had lapped at the bud no less vehemently because of it, the sensation different but still enjoyable.

The attention Brian was paying to his nipples was starting to affect Justin. Needing to feel Brian's tongue on his flesh, he whispered, "Come here," but Brian shook his head so Justin ran his fingers over his chest himself. A few passes and his nipples began to harden.

"Move your hands," ordered Brian and he charted the gradual change from soft to semi-erect mounds. It was only then that he put the camera down and fastened his mouth over the hill of rosy flesh and suckled at Justin's breasts. Catching hold of the bar in his teeth, Brian repeatedly lapped at the nipple through which the silver ran, stroking the other with his fingers. Justin arched his back wanting to feed Brian more of his nipple, wanting to touch the roof of Brian's mouth with the tip of his tit. Brian raised his head and went from side to side licking each of the nubs until they both stood out from Justin's chest. Then he got his camera once more and committed the image to film. 

 

**#11; #12; #13; #14**

As Justin watched through narrowed eyes, Brian's focus shifted from the peaks on his chest to his cock which lay lazy over his thigh. Stiffening but not yet hard. Without being told, as Brian photographed his dick, Justin lifted his cock and wrapped his hand around it. Slowly, he began to stroke the shaft, his eyes open, the look of lust on Brian's face feeding his own excitement. As he jacked his meat, he confessed, "Sometimes when I was in class, I would think about you making love to me and I could feel your hands on my cock. Stroking me." A bead of precum appeared at the tip of his dick. Justin tapped his finger against his hole and stretched the precum in a thin line. "Making me hard and wet. I could feel your mouth on me." He rubbed the head of his cock. "Feel your tongue digging in my hole, fucking my dick. And I used to get so hard, I thought my cock would tear through my pants." He moaned and pressed the sides of the bulbous head. More precum bubbled and spilled over the edges. He spread it over his cock until it shone and his fingers were wet and sticky.

Brian was aware of his own erection swaying between his thighs, aware of his growing need to fuck Justin, but he continued to document the teen's jack-off session.

Justin's toes curled as the speed of his strokes increased. His cock expanded in his fist, hard yet soft. That miracle never failed to amaze him and and he often drove Brian to the brink just by holding the man's cock and marveling at the feel of it, hard beneath the soft skin, formidable yet fragile. Turning his head to the side, he moaned and gripped the comforter in one hand while continuing to beat off with the other.

Capturing in loving detail the way Justin's balls drew up along his shaft, Brian licked his lips and, trying to ignore the demands of his own cock, made a confession of his own. "I was in a meeting once and I started to think about you," he said. "I remembered sucking you off on the couch, the way your dick tasted. The way it swelled inside my mouth. I couldn't hear anything Ryder was saying cause all I could hear was you moaning while I went down on you." Justin groaned and tugged on his dick. "Licking your long, hard shaft... Taking you deep in my throat... Sucking your balls..." The teen cupped his sac and squeezed it roughly, a cry erupting from his lips. He remembered it too. The time Brian had swallowed his cum. "It was fucking incredible. Tasting you in my mouth when you came. You were so sweet and creamy. I can still taste you on my tongue." Shouting out, Justin jerked and a line of cum splattered his belly. Brian continued to talk as he took pictures of Justin coming. "Still feel your cock hard between my lips." Justin's hand spread cum all along his cock and when he was finally done, it lay heavy and shiny against his belly, cum dotting his skin. Brian took a few last pictures and finished the roll. "Fuck yeah," he whispered. Hands shaking, he replaced the film in his camera and stood there, unsure what to do next when his little boy decided for him. 

 

**#15; #16; #17; #18; #19**

Catching his legs behind the knees, Justin drew them up and exposed his hole. Lips parted slightly, Brian immortalized the view, one he was quite familiar with, one of his favorite in fact. Justin turned over and knelt on all fours, then lowered his chest to the bed. Reaching back, he parted his cheeks and waited. Moving closer as he took his shots, Brian stopped when he was able to discern the wrinkles and folds.

Justin's lips tensed and relaxed in anticipation. Brian knelt on the bed behind him and lowered his face between the teen's cheeks. Lovingly unfurled his tongue and lapped the boy's ass from the top of his buttocks to the stretch of flesh that ran from his hole to his balls. "Oh God," he breathed as he tongued his lover. "Oh, baby." Forcing himself to stop, he took a couple shots of the glistening hole. Then he inserted one finger inside Justin and played in his soft, pliable ass until he thought his cock would explode if he didn't fuck him right at that moment. Withdrawing his finger, he took one last photo and dropped the camera to the bed. Ripped open a condom and sheathed his cock. Squirted lube between Justin's cheeks and roughly massaged his hole, then knelt behind him and pushed.

Normally he would have taken the time to really enjoy being inside Justin but right now all he wanted was to come. Thrusting vigorously against the teen's ass, Brian fucked him hard, driving his cock home until a spasm gripped his belly and he came. For a split second afterwards he felt ashamed; he'd been like an animal, mindlessly rutting, fucking without the slightest bit of finesse, without any regard for Justin's needs. And then the boy moaned and whispered, "I want to see." At first Brian didn't know what he was talking about and then it hit him--hard--and his mind reeled. When he was able to think clearly again, he withdrew and reached for the camera. He didn’t know how he’d be able to wait until the prints came back from the lab to show the teen the photograph of his just-fucked lips. 

 

**#20; #21; #22; #23**

Brian traced the line of Justin's spine with his eyes, like a valley that stretched from his shoulder blades to just above his buttocks. The blue neon turned off, Justin's body was bathed in natural light, his skin faintly luminescent. The teen slept, unaware of his lover's scrutiny. Brian took a couple of shots, grateful for the camera's near silent operations. Although Justin slept well, he slept lightly, as if afraid he'd miss something. Sleep was not a retreat for Justin, it was something you did because you had to, because your body eventually gave out but Brian knew the boy considered it to be a huge waste of valuable time that could have been better spent playing "Tomb Raider," or out dancing, or making love.

On the other hand, sleep was seldom restful for Brian and sometimes he longed for the oblivion a deep sleep could bring. Most nights he lay awake for an hour or more with his eyes closed to fool Justin--not that he believed he ever did--hoping to fall asleep, to rest, not to dream, just to lie there unaware of everything, even Justin lying next to him. Not that he was tortured, he was just restless. Maybe Justin was right, too much caffeine. Sometimes he had things on his mind that could probably wait until morning, only he couldn't sleep so he lay awake thinking about them. If he left the bed, Justin would awaken, so he learned to stay in bed and lie still. Listening to Justin breathe. Sometimes he turned ever so slowly and watched Justin sleep, much like he was doing now. Sometimes he thought about times past, reliving moments they had spent together: on vacation in the Bahamas, in that hotel in New York, dancing at Babylon… Sometimes he allowed himself to think about the prom and all that had happened afterwards but it made him so angry and afraid that he didn't do it often. Which made him sad, that the good memories were entwined with the bad because Justin had looked so happy, so beautiful that night. He smiled, feeling him in his arms again as he dipped him. Justin shifted and Brian watched the play of muscles in his back and buttocks. Biting his lip, he fired off another three shots.

Justin rolled over and opened his eyes. "What are you doing?" 

 

**#24; #25**

"More pictures?" Justin asked, his voice muffled by the towel he was using to dry his hair.

Brian smiled and waited until the golden head emerged from the white cotton cloth to take another shot. He loved that Justin was so fair, his "pretty golden boy" he called him sometimes and he was. So beautiful. Like a ray of sunshine. Deb had been right to name him that. Sunshine to illuminate his darkness. Sometimes he lay in bed, Justin in his arms, and stroked his hair, running his fingers through the short, blond strands, marveling at how soft they were, like silk threads. Should have used color film, he said to himself and then No matter. Even in black and white, the teen's light would blaze forth, brightening the gloomiest of days.

Bending over to put on his jeans, Justin stopped as Brian ordered him to, "Wait. Hold it right there." As he remained bent over, Brian recorded his posterior for posterity as if he hadn't spent ten minutes photographing his behind while the teenager slept. "You've got a great ass," he told Justin.

Imitating Brian's bored tone, the one he used whenever someone told him he was beautiful, Justin replied, "I know," and Brian barked a laugh. Justin had captured his expression perfectly.

Laying the camera on the bed, Brian crossed to Justin and stroked his bare flank. Then popped him on the butt once and left him standing there, pants around his ankles. Only, instead of pulling them up, Justin let them remain where they were, pooled around his feet.

Brian looked back over his shoulder. "Get dressed."

"No," replied Justin, rubbing his ass.

"We're supposed to meet the guys in fifteen minutes." Justin shook his head. "If you don't get dressed right now, I'm gonna take you over my knees and spank you," he threatened, aware of his cock stirring inside of his jeans.

Justin grinned and swayed his hips, the challenge--and invitation--unmistakable.

With a glance at the telephone, hoping it wouldn't ring before they were through, Brian groaned and carried the camera to the nightstand where it'd be within reach when it was needed. 

 

**#26; #27; #28; #29**

Fully dressed, Brian stood to the side of the naked youth, who remained bent over, his pale buttocks in the air, awaiting his punishment. Running his hand over the two plump mounds of flesh, Brian asked, "So, how many do you think you deserve?" He kneaded the teen's ass. "An even dozen maybe?"

Remembering how his butt had stung the last time and then it'd only been ten, Justin suggested, "A half a dozen?"

Brian gripped the back of Justin's neck firmly in one hand, the way a mother cat will gently but tightly grip her kitten's neck to carry him from place to place, and announced, "A dozen." He smacked the teen's behind hard eliciting a cry. "You've been a very bad boy."

"Brian--" Justin began but a second blow cut off his protests.

He smacked him twice more, once on each cheek. "Maybe the next time," two more blows, "when I say get dressed--"

"Ow!" His ass was getting warm.

Again he struck him. "You'll get dressed." And one final smack before releasing him and reaching for his camera.

"You said twelve," Justin moaned, his behind stinging.

As he photographed his lover's red cheeks, Brian asked, "You want the other four?"

Of course, not only was his butt stinging but his penis was stirring as well. Maybe four more licks were just what he needed. Before he could answer, Brian had drawn back and delivered a solid blow to his ass. Justin cried out in pain and surprise. "One more," he begged and Brian slapped him again.

"Again?"

Justin's dick was stiffening. "Again." Brian swatted him for an eleventh time and waited. "Do it," Justin whispered and braced himself for the last blow. It came hard and fast, the sound loud in the quiet apartment. Afterwards, Brian caressed his sore behind and he moaned, the pleasure warring with the pain. Moving behind him, Brian rubbed his groin against Justin's ass, the rough material of his jeans abrading the tender skin. "Shit!" exclaimed Justin and he hissed as Brian continued to hump him, his own cock responding to the harsh treatment by growing harder. He reached down and stroked himself.

"You want it?" Brian asked giving him a strong thrust.

"I want it," he replied, shivering, and the sooner the better. 

 

**#30; #31; #32; #33**

Justin had given him just enough time to position the camera on the tripod in front of the cabinet at the foot of the bed and set the timer before dragging him down onto the comforter and pulling off his jeans. Even then the teen didn't pull them off completely, just down around his ankles and off one foot, the other foot still entangled in the denium. Justin sucked on his cock for a few minutes, returning the rough treatment of his ass, running the shaft and sensitive head over his unshaven cheeks. Even though the hairs were fairly short and fine, the sensation caused Brian to cry out anyway.

Kneeling over Brian's groin, Justin held his lover's cock in place and eased onto it. He'd barely slipped on the condom and slathered on the lube before the urge to be fucked had completely supplanted all rational thought. When he was completely impaled, he leaned back on his arms and began working his ass up and down the rigid shaft. Brian's hand roamed his chest, pinching his nipples, stroking his belly; wrapping around his cock and sliding along the length of it, tightening about the head and coaxing him to grow harder.

Head thrown back, mouth open, he rode his lover's dick, feeling the head press against the walls of his asshole as it plumbed the depths of him, the shaft stretching him open wider and wider as it expanded with each thrust. This was what he craved, nights when he lay alone in his bed, a quarter of a city between them, wanting his lover so badly he sometimes got the urge to open the window and shout, "Brian!" into the night, knowing that the man would hear him no matter the distance. This was what he could feel, in the middle of the day as he bused tables at the diner, so hot that he wanted to strip down and pour ice water all over his body, anything to cool the fever that raged through him.

As Justin ground his hips against his groin, Brian pumped up into him and jacked him off. To feel the teen's cock throb in his hands, to caress and stroke his sac was like touching his own, was like masturbating and fucking at the same time. Justin moaned and precum beaded at the tip of his cock. Brian rubbed his finger in the sticky liquid and massaged it onto the swollen head and he could feel his hand around the head of his own cock and it made him cry out and squeeze his eyes shut, colors swirling behind his lids. God, he could fuck Justin three times a day for the rest of his life and he didn't think he'd ever tire of it. Of being buried in the warmth of his body. Being inside Justin made him feel hot, yes, but it also made him feel safe. Comforted. As if this was where he belonged. And it was. Justin's muscles tightened around him and then the teen moaned, "I'm coming."

Tugging on his sac and cock, pulling them in opposite directions, Brian said, "Come on, baby." The teen gave a choked cry and, after a moment more, exploded in Brian's hands. Having come that afternoon the flow wasn't prodigious but the sensation was just as intense as before. Justin's entire body stiffened and then slumped against Brian, totally drained and exhausted.

Brian had slipped out of him and now his penis lay hard between their bodies, wanting release. Raising up, Justin reached down and removed the condom, then encircled the turgid shaft with his fingers and jerked on it. Repeatedly, Justin stroked Brian until he felt the man tense beneath him and heard a sharp intake of breath. Neck bared, teeth clenched, Brian came, wetting the teen's palm and fingers. Gently, soothingly, Justin smoothed his lover's cock until it rested easy in his hand.

And the camera had recorded it all. 

 

**#34; #35; #36**

Having bathed for the second time in two hours, they slipped on their robes and lay curled together on the couch, like two foxes in a den. Since they'd given up on dinner with the guys, they finally stirred in order to whip up something in the kitchen. Actually, Justin whipped up something while Brian watched and kept him company and peeled whatever needed peeling. To Brian, Justin's hands were no less magical when he cooked. And his smile… he always seemed to smile when he cooked; even when he was deep in concentration, a wisp of a smile played about his lips. Wanting to capture the moment, Brian got his camera and took a couple of shots. Far from being annoyed, Justin made a request. "I want a picture of us."

Thinking of the session in bed, Brian replied, "We'll have some."

"I mean ones we can show people," Justin explained, the tips of his ears turning red.

"We have the ones from the Bahamas," pointed out Brian.

"Ones of us at home."

Brian smiled. _Us at home…_ Who would have ever thought…?

So after dinner they dressed in sweaters and jeans and picked a spot in the livingroom-on the couch-turned on extra lights and set up the camera on its tripod again. Justin perched between Brian's thighs on the edge of the sofa, his lover's arms around him, and smiled so brightly Brian wondered if they really needed the extra lights. After a moment, not a second too soon, he smiled as well, mouthing, "Baby," just as the camera flashed. 

 

It was looking at the last pictures of them together on the sofa that did it. Leaving the photos on the coffee table, Brian grabbed his coat and keys. They'd just have to do without the teenager for fifteen minutes or so. He was not going to be denied his baby any longer. 

 

Justin dropped the bags of trash into the can and debated carrying it down the alley to where the garbage truck made its pickup and decided against it. Plenty of time to do it tomorrow. He was just about to step back around the corner of the house when he felt someone in the darkness with him. His heart skipped a beat and then calmed. He knew who it was. Would have known immediately if he hadn't been busy at the time. As his lover's arms snaked around him he asked, "What are you doing here?" By way of answer, Brian unzipped the teen's jeans and pulled them over his hips. "Out here?" Brian pushed down his sweats and his erection brushed against Justin's buttock. Feeling the wet head, knowing that he had driven over here with a hard-on, Justin sighed and waited for Brian to take him. Which he did as soon as he could slip on a condom and lube them both. As Brian thrust into him, Justin wondered what had set him off and then, as Brian found his spot, he realized that he didn't give a shit. Not right at that moment.

Deb's voice cut through the darkness. "Justin! What are you doing out there?" She was standing in the doorway, not twenty feet away.

Catching his breath, Justin replied, "Fucking!"

Behind him, Brian laughed abruptly and grunted. His baby…

There was a pause, then, "Well, tell Brian to come inside and have some pie when you're done. That is if he wants anything else after having you."

Spreading his hand over the teen's strong back, feeling his smooth skin, gazing down at his beautiful body, Brian answered silently, No. He didn't want anything else at all.


	10. Best Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin attends orientation and the first week of classes at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts and meets two new friends.

Jennifer poured over the information packet the Institute had sent while Justin flipped through the course catalog. "Honey, are you sure you don't want to live in the dorm? You'd be close to your classes and..."

"And far away from Brian," he said, finishing her sentence.

"That's not what I was going to say," she replied. "Your father was going to pay for a dorm room anyway if you went away to school. And Deb refuses to take as much as she should." Jen paused. "Or are you planning to move in with Brian?"

Justin glanced away from the catalog. "He hasn't asked."

"You think he will?" He shrugged. "So you're still at three drawers, huh?"

"Yep." He smiled.

"Which you don't seem too upset about," she pointed out.

"Could be nothing at all," said Justin remembering when Lindsay had told him not to expect too much from Brian and when he'd asked what was too much, she had replied, "Anything at all." They'd certainly come a long way from those days but not as far as he hoped they eventually would. He smiled again. "Besides...I kinda like coming over after I've been away for a while."

Blushing at the thought of what they got up to in the loft--and outside Deb's house--and God knows where else, Jennifer cleared her throat and put aside the housing forms. "So, are you excited about orientation?"

His smile widened, if that was possible. "It's gonna be intense." He showed her the catalog. "Look at these classes. Drawing, Introduction to Modern Art, Painting Lab, Print and Digital Media, Freshman Seminar..." Flipping to a photo of a large room partitioned into two smaller spaces, he said, "That's one of the studios. You share the first year and after that you get your own." Eyes sparkling, he studied the photograph, memorizing every detail. "My own studio..."

"Pretty soon you'll be exhibiting in shows and I won't be able to spend any time with you," she said wistfully. She rose from the table, stroking his hair softly, and went to the fridge. "You want anything?" He shook his head, still engrossed in the picture of the studio. Pondering the contents of the refrigerator, Jennifer realized that neither did she. Except maybe to turn back time. She remembered the first set of paints she'd ever brought Justin. He must have been five. Watching him seated on the floor, still a little awkward, not quite coordinated enough to control the involuntary jerks of his hand, he nevertheless worked very hard to put paint on paper, presenting her with pictures of rainbows and farm animals, the school bus, their house, the swimming pool--which he loved--and Daphne. Now, he sketched pictures of Brian and Brian's son, Lindsay and Melanie, and male nudes. Closing the refrigerator, she leaned against it and watched him devour the catalog as if the meaning of life were hidden inside. Maybe it was, for him. His life was beginning. And no matter how excited she was for him, she couldn't help but feel that life, somehow, was beginning to end for her. Or, at least, to slow down to the point where she couldn't tell if she was moving at all. 

 

Listening to Justin blather on about orientation with only a fifth of his attention, Brian debated telling the teen to either shut up or to go home. He had about thirty minutes of work left to do and Justin was making it damned impossible for him to get it finished. On the verge of shouting at him, Brian, instead, counted to ten and closed his eyes. Took a deep breath and put down his pencil. Gave the teen his full attention. The moment he did so, Justin paused in the middle of his monologue about how cool it would be to have his own studio and looked at Brian. "What's wrong?"

"I just have some work to do and I can't really do it if you keep talking," the ad exec replied, hoping that Justin didn't take it the wrong way.

Studying his face, Justin said, "You look just like my mom did this afternoon."

"Yeah? Maybe she had something to do too."

"Almost like she didn't want to hear about it."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

"Why can't it be that I just have work to do?"

"Because it's almost never something simple. It's usually something you don't want to tell me."

Brian turned back to his papers. "Well, this time it's just work."

"Promise?"

Looking up into his bright, blue eyes, Brian replied, "I promise." Justin kissed him softly and took his orientation materials into the other room and sat in the middle of the bed quietly musing over them. As he returned to his work, Brian felt a pang of guilt. Of course, Justin had been right. God, when had anything ever been simple with him? Unable to concentrate on the Jacobs account, he sat thinking about what was really bothering him. 

 

Around a mouthful of scrabbled eggs, Michael asked, "So the Boy Wonder starts college next week, huh?"

"Yeah," Brian answered, waiting for the ribbing to begin.

"It's funny," said Emmett, "cause when you were starting college, he was just starting first grade."

"Yeah," added Ted, "and Justin was still probably more mature than Brian."

"And way smarter."

The guys waited for the expected, "Fuck you," but it didn't come.

Ted took a swig of juice. "If you're not gonna play by the rules--"

"Shut the fuck up," Brian growled.

"That's better."

"So what's wrong?" asked Michael.

"Nothing's wrong," he replied, finishing off his coffee.

Deb paused and refilled his cup. "Empty Nest Syndrome."

"What?" Michael asked, certain that this time his mom had gone around the bend.

"Empty Nest Syndrome. Jeesh, don't any of you watch Lifetime channel?"

"I know what it is," he replied, "I just don't know what it has to do with Brian and Justin."

"Brian's experiencing Empty Nest Syndrome." She explained it slowly, reckoning that the years of recreational drug use had taken a toll on their brains. "Justin's going away to college--"

"He's going across town," Michael corrected.

"And Brian's experiencing a sense of ma--ma--what's that word?"

Enmett popped up with, "Malaise?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Malaise."

Finally the person in question spoke. "And why's that?"

"Because he's going out into the world, starting a life of his own."

He put down his cup. "Bullshit."

"Then what is it?" she challenged.

"I'm just sick of hearing about it. That's all."

Deb nodded sagely. "Yeah." Left to wait on another table.

The guys all tried to find somewhere else to focus their attention other than the black hole that was Brian. Finally, he threw down some money to cover his breakfast and stood. "I gotta go."

"Coming to the gym after work?" asked Michael.

He thought about the long day ahead of him and decided that by then he'd need to release some tension and stress before going home. "Yeah. I'll be there." Slipping on his sunglasses he departed the diner, a couple of heads turning in his wake.

Ted shook his head in disbelief and disgust. "Even when he's not trying, he still manages to attract the best-looking guys."

Leaning over, as if Brian would suddenly return and discover them talking about him, Em asked, "Do you think Deb is right? That Brian's upset because Justin's starting college?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. Why should he be? Least now he'll be able to get some sleep. The Boy Wonder'll be too busy with his new friends, and homework, and classes..." He let his thought trail away.

"To spend much time with Brian," finished Em. He met Michael's eyes then dropped his.

"Who would have thought it? Brian Kinney actually needing someone," Ted commented with a raised eyebrow. 

 

As he walked through the door of his apartment, he knew Justin was inside, probably lying on the bed or the couch, waiting for him. They had made plans to have an early dinner before Justin's shift at the diner but Brian had gone to the gym with the guys instead and now he had to face the consequences of his actions. Throwing down his bag, he glimpsed Justin's head over the top of the sofa. He was watching "Tales from the Crypt". Justin glanced over at him. "Hey."

"Hey." He put his keys down on the counter and started to remove his jacket.

"I ordered Vietnamese. It should be here soon."

"Sorry." He loosened his tie. "I forgot and went to the gym." His excuse sounded flimsy even to himself and he prayed that Justin was in an generous mood and would let it slide by. He seemed to be.

Rising from the sofa at the commercial break, Justin followed Brian into the bedroom and watched from the bed as the older man changed clothes. When he was done, he laid on the bed next to Justin and waited for the teen to crawl into his arms. In a couple of minutes they were entwined arms and legs and tongues, hair disheveled, clothing pushed aside in an attempt to get to warm flesh, forgetting the delivery guy who was due any moment and the fact that Justin had to go to work in an hour, just wanting to be together for a few minutes, utterly alone and unconcerned about anything or anyone else.

Brian lay on his back, thighs open, Justin's hand kneading his cock through his jeans. He was getting hard, the outline of his dick prominent against the rough denim. As if he couldn't wait for the food to arrive, the teen tore open his pants and pulled them down around his hips, lowered his face to Brian's groin, and began sucking on his cotton-covered cock. Just then there came a knock at the door. "Shit!" exclaimed Brian as Justin got up and tried unsuccessfully to rearrange his clothes so that his hard-on was less visible. Not bothering, Brian decided to remain where he was until the teen returned. He could hear Justin talking with the delivery man and then the door shut. But Justin didn't come back to the bedroom. Groaning, Brian buttoned his jeans and went in search of his tardy lover. Found him in the kitchen unpacking the food.

In answer to Brian's unasked question, he explained, "If I don't eat now, I won't get another chance for three hours and I'm starving."

Knowing it was his fault, Brian got out the plates and set the table. Poured them each a beer and waited for Justin to serve the food. For the first few minutes of dinner he was painfully aware of his erection, still unwilling to give up on the idea of Justin finishing what he'd started.

Dinner over, empty cartons tossed and plates in the dishwasher, they paused at the door and kissed softly. Justin slipped away, smiling, and promised, "Later." Watching him go, Brian was possessed of an urge to grab hold of his hand and keep him there. Justin gone, he glanced around the loft, wondering what to do for the next six hours. 

 

Opening the front door to find Brian standing on the other side, Mel yelled, "Honey! Look who's coming to dinner!"

"I've already had dinner."

"Funny," she said pointedly, "we haven't."

Lindsay arrived just in time to avert a minor spat and escorted them both to the dining room, handing Gus to his Dadda while she and Mel ate. "See? No bloodshed."

"Thank you, Mahatma," Mel grumbled and Brian laughed. Which made Melanie laugh too.

Midway through dinner, having run out of innocuous conversation, Brian took the baby into the living room and propped him up against some pillows. Removed his camera from its case and attached the flash. "Come on, Gus, smile for Dadda. Come on. Smile." But Gus just stared at him.

"Don't quit your day job," suggested Melanie.

"Bitch," whispered Brian and the baby giggled as if he understood at least the feelings behind the word if not the word itself. Taking advantage of the change in mood, Brian took a dozen or so shots of the baby and then turned and took a few of the two mommies before they realized what he was doing and hid their faces and protested that their hair wasn't done and they weren't ready. Grinning, Brian lifted Gus in his arms and carried him back to the dining room, both of them looking self-satisfied.

"So why haven't you taken any pictures of you and Justin?" Mel asked.

"Who says I haven't?" he sneered.

"I mean of the non-pornographic variety."

"Mel!" scolded Lindsay.

"What?"

"Actually," Brian began, reaching into his jacket pocket, and he burst into laughter at the horrified look on Lindz's face. "These aren't the ones," he explained. "Those are in a special place." He handed Lindz a photograph. "I thought you should have one. In case Gus forgot what his old man looked like."

"We have pictures of you," Melanie reminded him.

"In case he forgot what his old man and..."

"And who?" she pressed.

"Would you shut up?"

Mel snickered. "What exactly is Justin?" She poured another glass of wine while Lindsay examined the picture of the two men. "I bet you can't even say it."

"He's my," Brian began and he paused, "he's my lover."

Raising her glass in tribute, Mel said, "Salute."

Lindsay showed her the picture of Brian and Justin and remarked, "It's very good. You have an eye for photography."

"The fuckin' camera does most of the work." Gus seemed interested in the photograph, so Brian took it back and showed it to him. "See? Dadda and Justin."

"When's he moving in?"

Brian sat up. "What?"

Mel repeated her question. "When's he moving in? You two look like a poster for connubial bliss. When's the commitment ceremony?"

Cutting his eyes at her, he stood and carried the baby into the other room. Lindsay gave her a hard look as well.

"What did I say?"

Lindsay left the table and went after Brian. He had taken a seat in his favorite chair and sat holding Gus in one arm and studying the picture he'd taken. She watched him struggle with his thoughts. "It's a big step," she said, voicing them for him.

"Yeah." He spoke so softly it was only because Gus moved that she could tell he had said anything.

"But you're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"He's starting college next week, Lindsay." Shook his head. "College." Looked down at the picture he held, faced with the differences in their age, with the differences in their experiences, backgrounds, everything.

"It'll be a year," Lindsay said and when he seemed puzzled, she explained. "Since you met. On Gus' birthday. It'll be a year, a whole year you've been together."

"We weren't together."

"Yes, you were. Even if you wouldn't admit it." Her next words were interrupted as Mel got up to clear away the dinner things. "A whole year. And look at all the things you've been through together. And you're still together."

Brian handed her the picture. "I don't know why he stays."

"Because you love him. And he loves you." Lindsay went to the couch and selected a framed picture from the collection on the table. Removed the existing photo and placed the one of Brian and Justin in the frame in its stead.

"Things'll be different." In an attempt to ward off any further depression, he smiled at Gus and the baby grinned back at his daddy.

"Maybe they'll be better," she suggested, finding a place for the photo near the one of Brian and Gus, a copy of the one Justin loved.

But he couldn't lie. "Maybe they won't."

Sitting on the couch, Lindsay asked, "You think asking him to move in is gonna change any of that?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He shook his head. "I just--I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I did everything wrong. Again," he added in a whisper. 

 

Hoping Brian would be asleep when he got back--cause they both needed the rest--Justin tiptoed into the bedroom and peeked in at his lover. Who was sitting up in bed reading a report, it looked like. Justin groaned. "Brian..."

"Hmm?"

"You should be asleep."

"I was waiting for you," he explained unnecessarily.

"I know." He plopped down on the bed and took off his shoes. Laid back where he was, tired as shit. Brian put away his papers and crawled to where Justin lay and kissed him, forehead to chin and chin to forehead. Justin reached up and touched Brian's bare body. He'd been naked beneath the sheet. They kissed for a while like this, saliva smearing their mouths and faces as they sought a deeper connection and Justin forgot about being tired, about needing sleep. As they kissed, Brain reached down and grabbed his cock through his pants. Stroked him, feeling the teen's dick grow beneath his hand. Feeding on his lips and chin and neck, Brian increased pressure on his penis until it threatened to burst through the polyester material.

Then, continuing his crawl, Brian moved down Justin's body until his head was over the teen's groin. Justin undid the drawstring on the inside and pushed the pants down around his thighs. His erection was still trapped by his underwear, a pair of Ralph Lauren knit boxers that were barely restraining him. Closing his hand around Justin, Brian tugged on him, rubbing his thumb under and over the head, and around the rim. His own dick stiffening, Brian ignored his hard-on and concentrated on Justin's. Finally, he lowered his face and sucked him through his underwear. Justin's heels dug into the bed as Brian's mouth tightened around him and pulled, tugged, and twisted around the head, while his hand ran up and down the shaft and squeezed his balls. Justin felt wet and hard and horny as hell. "Take em off," he breathed, "I gotta...take em off."

But Brian wouldn't. Instead, he unbuttoned the fly and drew Justin through it. Pounced on him immediately, taking most of his shaft into his mouth. Twisting his body around so that he straddled Justin's legs, he continued to suck him off, head bobbing over the teen's groin, saliva glistening on both his lips and Justin's cock. He freed his lover's balls as well, diverting attention from his shaft to suck on them, laving the round sac with his tongue, sucking them up into his mouth, filling his cheeks as he lapped and licked and fed on the heavy testicles.

Releasing Justin, Brian knelt over the boy's face and spread his cheeks. Was rewarded for his earlier efforts, feeling Justin's tongue flickering at his hole. Head thrown back, he panted and tried to open his hole even wider. The tip of Justin's tongue eased inside him and he cried out. Two or three more forays into his ass and his cock felt like it had turned to stone. He pressed back on his dick and sank it into Justin's mouth. Rising and falling, he fed his lover, growing harder by the minute. Justin made love to the head, his kisses landing like butterflies upon the swollen flesh. Reaching for a condom, Brian twisted around and unrolled it over Justin's dick. Squeezed lube over the tip and spread it over the shaft. Eyes on Justin's face, Brian reached behind him and held Justin's cock upright. Placed the head against his hole and lowered himself onto it. Both sets of lips stretched as he was penetrated: one to accommodate Justin, the other to maintain a steady supply of oxygen flowing to his lungs.

As Brian engulfed his cock, Justin squeezed his eyes closed and tried to keep calm. He didn't know what had set Brian off tonight but he was always glad of the opportunity to top him. Except, technically, Brian was still the one on top, as he knelt over his lover, taking the last few inches of Justin's dick. When Justin was completely encased in his bowels, he placed both hands on either side of the teen's torso and gave himself a moment to get used to being full. He rose up off of Justin a few inches and remained in place, letting the teen thrust up into him. Brian's dick bounced in front of him, every so often the force of Justin's jabs causing it to slap against his belly. "Oh, baby," he moaned as they fucked. "Oh, baby..." He lowered his hips and rocked back and forth, feeling Justin's head and shaft work against the walls of his asshole, press against his prostate. Strands of clear precum dripped from his cock onto Justin's belly. He stroked himself and hissed as Justin wiggled and pumped beneath him.

Finally, he rose up and laid on his back. Justin knelt between his open thighs, his dick still poking through his underwear. As he jacked off, Justin eased his cock back inside him and fucked him as he continued to pull on his meat. Having established an easy rhythm, Justin took over from him and began pulling instead. Brian cried out as Justin pounded his ass, it was as if he intended to fuck the cum from him and it was working. "I'm coming," he whispered, and the first stream erupted, wetting Justin's knuckles. The teen continued to jack him off until the last few drops fell upon his belly. Barely pausing to wipe his fingers clean, Justin leaned over Brian, supporting himself on his hands, Brian's legs around his waist, and resumed his ride, fucking Brian's asshole until he felt his balls tighten and knew he was about to come. Giving Brian a few hard thrusts, he stiffened and dropped his load... wishing he could spray his lover's insides with his cum... wanting to withdraw and watch as cum trickled from his opened hole, startling white against his red lips. 

 

Justin woke sometime around six in the morning with a hard-on and Brian lay on his belly and let the teen fuck him from behind, his dick trapped between his stomach and the bed, his ass still slightly sore from their earlier session. After Justin jerked to a finish, Brian sighed and held him against his back, his cock still buried inside him, and masturbated, coming in the early morning light. 

 

Quiet at breakfast, Brian went over in his head all the reasons why he should ask Justin to move in with him--and all of the reasons why he shouldn't--and by the time they were done with their meal, he still hadn't made a decision. Plus, Justin had begun to suspect that he was grappling with something and keeping it from him which meant he began to fret.

Finally, Justin spoke up. "I wish you'd just tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Don't," Justin warned. "Don't do this. Don't pretend that it's nothing."

And it wasn't. It was one of the biggest somethings of his life. He didn't want to lose Justin, he didn't want to drive him away and end up alone with regrets, and he didn't want to do something foolish out of fear and do equal harm to their relationship. Fuck, he hated that word. Are we even ready to live together? He didn't know. He didn't know anything. He had spent all of yesterday evening after coming back from the Munchers' trying to figure it out and hadn't, and all of this morning and hadn't, and he suspected if he had another lifetime he still wouldn't be able to figure it out. And Justin was sitting across from him, worried, wondering if he was going to yet again do something to fuck things up and he was sitting across from Justin wondering if he were about to make the biggest mistake of his life. Christ, his mouth was so fuckin' dry Taking a desperate swallow of coffee, he opened his lips and let his mind go blank, let his mouth decide. "I want you to move in with me." Staring at the shocked look on Justin's face, he imagined that his own looked much the same.

"What?" asked Justin in disbelief.

And he had to say it again. "I want you to move in with me." This time he thought he sounded a little surer but he couldn't be certain.

Justin laughed a little. "No, you don't."

"Yeah." Pissed at being doubted, Brian reiterated. "I do."

But Justin ate a last forkful of pancake and shook his head. "No, you don't. I don't know why you asked, but you don't want me to move in with you."

"Why not?" asked Brian, confused, angry, shocked, a little hurt.

"Because you're the most solitary person I've ever met in my life." He smiled softly. "You don't want to share your space. I'm glad just to have three drawers. Really."

Brows drawn in to a point, Brian opened his mouth and shut it. Sat back in his chair. Then sat forward again. "So you're saying no?"

"Yeah." Justin stood and cleared away their plates.

Brian followed him and took the plates from him, set them down hard upon the cabinet. "I fuckin' agonized over this and you just say no?"

Standing on his tiptoes, Justin kissed his lover. "I appreciate it. I think it's sweet." He opened the dishwasher. "I'm really glad you asked." Began loading the appliance. "Could you bring the coffee cups?"

"Fuck the coffee cups and fuck you." Brian stormed from the kitchen and shut himself in the bathroom.

It was the first time Justin had ever seen him close the door except when he had company. Standing alone in the kitchen, Justin figured he could have probably handled that better. But he knew Brian didn't want him to move into the loft. Brian liked living alone. He liked having a place all his own. And nothing over the months he had known him had ever convinced him otherwise, not even the last three months. So he wondered where the urge had come from. And he guessed if he were being honest with himself, he would admit that he had reacted so nonchalantly to keep from being hurt by the truth.

Brian sat on the toilet seat and brooded. Aware of the foolish picture he must have presented, he got up and stood in front of the mirror. Only, then he was faced with himself. Why had he gotten so angry? He knew as well as Justin did that he wasn't ready for the teen to move in with him. The moment the words had come out of his mouth he'd regretted them. He'd wanted to mean them, but he hadn't. And just because one of them had the good sense to speak the truth, he got pissed. Fuck. Yet another reason why it was a bad idea. So how was he going to go back out there and face Justin after his hissy fit? Staring at his face in the mirror, he went, "Fuck it," and opened the bathroom to find Justin sitting on the bench that ran around his bedroom. Swallowing his pride, Brian said, "You're right." He sat next to him. "I wanted..."

"You wanted to be able to want me to move in," said Justin and both Brian and he laughed.

"We must belong together because that actually makes sense to me." He shook his head.

"So what's really wrong? Why did you think you wanted me to move in?" Justin reached and laced his fingers through Brian's. "Huh?"

Shamefaced, Brian hung his head. "You're starting college next week."

"So?"

Brian looked away but Justin turned his head back towards him. "So, you're gonna be busy."

"You mean, the way you're busy sometimes with work and stay at the office late and I don't see you for days at a time?" asked Justin with a crooked smile.

"Know-it-all asshole," grunted Brian.

Justin grinned. "But you love me. Don't you?" He moved closer and kissed Brian's neck. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," whispered Brian, finding the boy's lips and kissing him soundly. He really did. 

 

Checking his appearance in the mirror one last time, Justin glanced over at Brian who was reading the paper. "Well?"

Brian looked up, looked over his outfit. "I'd fuck you."

"That's a given," Justin replied, wagging his tongue.

"Someone's getting a little cocky."

Justin glanced down at his crotch. "A lot," he amended. Brian laughed and went back to his paper. "So it's okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're not looking at me," complained Justin.

Putting his paper down again, Brian got up and went over to where the teen was standing. Examined him from head to foot. He was wearing a pair of khaki canvas cargo pants and a long-sleeved green polo shirt with racing stripes down the sleeves. The Old Navy poster boy. No matter how hard he tried, Justin persisted in dressing like every other teenaged kid in the world. Oh well. Brian kissed him. "You look great."

Justin beamed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smacked him on the bottom as he returned to the table. "You'd better eat. Your mom is gonna be here in fifteen minutes."

Sauntering over to the table, quite pleased with himself, Justin said, "I'm too excited."

"Maybe they'll have refreshments."

"Maybe." He sat in his chair and watched Brian read his paper until the man looked up.

"What is it?"

"You gonna come with me to the reception on Friday?"

Brian bought himself a little time by taking a sip of his coffee and checking his watch. "If I say yes now I'm probably going to save myself three days of aggravation, right?" Justin nodded. "Fine. I'll go with you." And then he flashed on the last academic-related event he'd attended with Justin and reached for the teen's hand unconsciously.

"It's okay," Justin assured him, knowing what he'd been thinking as he'd been thinking it himself. "I'm okay."

Brian released his hand. "Ten minutes." There was a knock at the door. "What do you know? She's early." He craned his neck. "It's open!" he called just as Justin got up to let her in. By the time Justin reached the kitchen counter she had pushed open the door.

Jennifer paused just over the threshold.

"I promise all the pornography and sex toys have been put away--it's perfectly Mom-proof," Brian reassured her. Leading his mother to the dining table, Justin bumped Brian with his hip.

"Brian."

"Jennifer."

Although they'd come to an understanding, sort of, it was reasonable to assume that they'd never be bosom buddies. Seeming to relish their discomfort, Justin took his time gathering his stuff.

"Coffee?"

Jen shook her head. "No. Thank you. We should really get going. Ah, Justin..."

He appeared with his knapsack. "I'm ready."

"Well." She smiled. "It was nice seeing you again."

"You too," replied Brian standing.

"I'll... I'll just..." She left them at the table and went to wait by the door.

Glancing to make sure his mom wasn't watching, Justin pulled Brian's head down and kissed him long and hard. "Wanna go dancing tonight?"

Brian smiled and shook his head. "You've got school tomorrow." He laughed. "I love saying that."

"That's okay, old man." Justin danced out of reach and smiled. "Later."

"Get outta here." He watched as Justin and his mom left the loft, then finished his coffee and made ready to leave for the office. 

 

There was no way to really tell if any of the other kids in his class were cool or not as their parents insisted on shepherding them through each session. By the time lunch came, he was ready to kiss his mom because she, at least, hadn't insisted on coddling him at every opportunity. He guessed she'd done a lot of her letting go during the months he'd been living at Deb's. Opting to eat away from the campus, they found an out of the way cafe and sat outside. "Just like Paris," Jen mused, smiling.

"Brian said we might go to Paris next year," Justin told her. For the fiftieth time.

Instead of telling him so, she played a game they'd made up together, 'What do you think?' "What do you think you'll like best about Paris?"

He thought for a moment. "The Louvre. Definitely. And then maybe Notre Dame. Or walking in Montmartre." He remembered the slide show Michael and David had shown upon their return. "We will not have any slides."

Remembering his report of the less-than-festive festivities accompanying the couple's return, Jen gave a little laugh before sipping her coffee. Looked over the rim. "What do you think Brian'll like best?"

"Shopping at Yves Saint Laurent." No doubt about it.

Thinking on his outfit that morning, a dapper grey suit with an electric blue shirt, she commented, "He certainly is stylish." It was the one quality he possessed that she wished would rub off on Justin. Still, he was a teenager and what teenager could afford Yves Saint Laurent?

"He's a fanatic," Justin confessed. "You would not believe how much money he spends on clothes."

"Well, I suppose he has to dress a certain way, being in advertising."

"He says he's not really selling his ad concept, he's selling confidence in him."

Although she knew Brian had won awards for advertising, she hadn't really believed him to be serious about it, hadn't believed he was capable of being serious about anything except satisfying his own urges. But, gradually, her picture of him was changing. "He sounds like a smart man."

Justin gulped down his Coke. "He is. It's just that sometimes... he lets his emotions get in the way." He debated telling her about Brian asking him to move in, decided it wouldn't hurt anything. "He asked me to move in with him."

Jennifer's heart began to beat faster but she made herself at least appear calm on the outside. "What did you say?"

"I told him I thought we should wait. Actually, I told him no."

Breathing easier, she was nevertheless confused. "Why?"

"Because we're not ready," he answered, picking up the last fry from his plate.

Jen studied his face, so deceptively young. "You're a smart man too," she told him and she meant it. "I'm proud of you."

"For what?"

"For doing the right thing instead of the easy thing."

And Justin laughed. "You think living with Brian would have been easy? I would have been back at Deb's in a week, tops. With a footprint in the middle of my ass."

Against her will, she laughed. "Justin!"

He shook his head. "There is nothing easy about Brian Kinney. Believe me." The teen grinned. "He's hard from top to bottom."

Jennifer's mouth fell open. "Justin Taylor!" She glanced around to see if anyone else had heard, scandalized even though no one had. Checking her watch, she was grateful to see that it was time to head back to the Institute. "Come on." Shaking her head. Incorrigible. 

 

When the afternoon session was over, Jennifer drove Justin--or, rather, he drove--to Deb's and they told her and Vic all about the Institute and the programs and how it looked on the inside and all kinds of meaningless things that meant a great deal to all of them.

Deb hugged Justin. "I'm so proud of you, Sunshine. Some people would have given up," she said, referring to his decision to go to IFA instead of Dartmouth.

"Brian wouldn't let me." He recalled their conversation in Babylon. "He said that it's scary to make your own way than to do what's expected of you. But that it was okay, if that's what I wanted."

Jen couldn't believe it. "Brian said that?"

"Yep."

"I told you, there is a brain inside that pretty head of his," Deb said.

Vic snorted. "Now, if he'd only use it for good instead of evil." 

 

Justin lay on this back and talked to Brian on his cellphone. "I miss you."

"What are you doing over there?"

"Missing you."

"Get dressed and I'll come get you."

"Can't. I promised my mom I'd spend a couple nights a week at home."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Sorry."

"How was school?"

"That's good. Taking an interest in other people. You're learning."

"Fuck you."

"Not from there, you won't."

"Ah, young Grasshopper, you have much to learn. I could fuck you from across the country, little boy."

"Really? Do it now."

"Another time. I'm tired."

"So why do you want me to come over?"

"And you got a 1500 on your SATs?"

"Why?"

Pause.

"Because I sleep better when you're here."

Pause.

"You're gonna make me wish I'd said yes the other day."

"Too late. It was a time-sensitive offer."

"Fuck you."

"One-track mind."

"I'm horny."

"So jerk off. You remember? It's what you used to do on a regular basis before you met me."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Maybe a little."

"Maybe a lot. I bet your cock is hard already. I bet you've got your hand around it, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Pulling your meat. Taking those long...slow strokes."

"Mmmm."

"Rubbing your thumb over the head. Are you wet yet?"

"Not yet."

"I love it when your cock drips."

"Oh..."

"Spreading that shiny stuff all over your dick."

"Yeah..."

"Are you wet yet?"

"Yes..."

"Pull on it, baby. Pull on that hard cock."

"I'm pulling."

"Pull harder. Jerk on it."

"I am."

"Harder."

"Oh!"

"Do it."

"I'm doing it."

"Are you coming yet?"

"No."

"I want you to blow your load. A big, fat load all over your belly."

"Okay."

"I wish I was there to eat your ass."

"Oh yeah..."

"You coming?"

Silence.

"Justin?"

"I'm--"

Silence.

"Justin?"

"I'm coming."

"That's it, baby. I wanna hear it."

A cry.

"That's it. Get your hand all wet and sticky."

A couple of ragged breaths.

"Are you sticky?"

"Yeah."

"Rub it over your belly."

"I am."

"Feel good?"

"Yes."

"I wish I was there to lick it off. Lick my baby's belly clean..."

"Me too."

"Now, go to sleep."

"I love you."

Pause.

"You too." 

 

Hanging up, Brian padded around the loft barefoot, a shot of bourbon in one hand and the mock-up for the latest La Jeunesse anti-aging cream print ad. But his mind wasn't on it. It was on Justin and their phone conversation. And the fact that he had hung up without saying, "I love you," to the teen. He didn't know why he'd choked at the last second. After all, he'd told Justin plenty of times that he loved him. Even given him a fuckin' poem for Christ's sake. So what was the big deal? Nothing. Picking up his cell, he started to dial him again and changed his mind. He didn't have to say it to Justin all the time. Justin understood, even if no one else did. Dropping his phone to the desktop, he tossed the ad next to it and went to bed.

He'd tell him tomorrow. 

 

The second day of orientation, the seventy freshmen were divided into groups according to the division they'd been accepted to: art, dance, film/video, theatre, and music. Although the faculty had explained the day before that they expected and encouraged cross-disciplinary collaboration, students in the different divisions had their own spaces, their own core classes, their own requirements for graduation, etc., which were better explained during separate sessions.

As the orientation leader explained the studio system, Justin found himself standing near two other new students. He'd seen both of them the day before from afar and had wondered at the time if they were in the art division. They looked as if they'd be at home in any of the areas. They looked like artists. He never thought he looked like an artist. Maybe it was because he'd gone to prep school and grown up in the suburbs. He didn't know. All he did know was that he did not look like these two. The guy had cornrows and wore baggy Diesel jeans and a pair of Timberlands. His arms were covered with tattoos and both his ears were pierced. As was one of his eyebrows. The girl could have been his twin in terms of attitude except she was white with flaming red hair chopped off in a flat-top. And she wore all black. Black tee-shirt, black jeans, black Dr. Martens, black nail polish. Thinking about his Old Navy ensemble, Justin felt decidedly normal and sub-par. Still, hoping to make the best of it, hoping they wouldn't snub him as being too common, he turned to them and said, "Hi. I'm Justin."

The guy nodded. "Xavier."

"Rennie," said the girl. And she smiled. 

 

They found some space outside on the steps and sat down to eat. Rennie, as Justin had guessed, was a vegetarian. "No meat, no fish."

"So what?" asked Xavier. "We just turn you loose on the lawn and let you go crazy? Is that it?" He and Justin laughed as Rennie gave him the finger. "Nasty girl."

Nose turned up as the two young men consumed their cheeseburgers, Rennie asked Justin, "So you're actually from Pittsburgh?"

"Yep."

"Wow," she said picking at her fries. "I didn't realize anyone was actually from Pittsburgh."

"What about Warhol?" suggested Xavier in Justin's defense.

Rennie paused. "Cool."

Xavier was from Washington, D.C. "Chocolate City," he said, grinning broadly at Rennie's discomfort and Justin's utter cluelessness. "Cause it has the largest population of black people in the country."

"Oh," said Justin. "Where are you from?" he asked Rennie.

"Nowhere," she replied. Then added, "Del Mar."

"Where's that?" Justin chewed on his cheeseburger.

"California. Outside of San Diego."

"Do you surf?"

Rennie gave him a withering look. "Do I look like I surf?"

Giving her the once-over, Xavier said, "You look like direct sunlight would kill you but here you are and it ain't even overcast."

Trying not to laugh, Justin concentrated on his burger but Xavier giggled and they both cracked up.

"Fuck you, Xavier," replied Rennie and then she joined them. "So what do you do, Prep Boy?"

Justin stared at her. "Are you talking to me?"

"If the striped tie fits..."

"They call me the Boy Wonder," he announced and for once it didn't make him feel completely silly.

"Why's that?" she asked, challenging him.

"Name says it all," he explained.

Xavier nodded his head and smiled. "I like it. The Boy Wonder. I'm a Dark Knight fan myself. Nightwing too."

"Nightwing rocks," Justin added.

Determined not to be left out of the conversation, Rennie repeated her earlier question, "So what do you do?"

"Artistically or what?"

"Whatever."

"I sketch. Mostly figure drawing. I want to be an animator. Maybe. I haven't decided."

Stealing one of Justin's fries, having eaten his own, Xavier said, "Did you see _Final Fantasy?"_

"Yeah, it was all right. The animation was awesome but the movie sucked. _Ghost in the Shell was better."_

"That is the best movie," agreed Rennie.

"You've seen it?" Justin asked, totally amazed.

"I own it on DVD."

"Sweet." He turned the tables on her. "What about you?"

"I call them assemblages. Not really paintings, not really sculpture, a little of both."

"Me too," added Xavier. "I do installations. You ever seen any of Leonardo Drew's stuff?" Justin shook his head. "I got an exhibition catalog I'll show you. It's crazy. He just finds all this old junk and then he glues the pieces to these huge wooden canvases... I saw this exhibition at the Smithsonian, man, I thought I was in another world."

"It must be cool to live in a place with so many museums."

"Yeah. They get some good stuff. Mostly at the Hirshhorn. I am definitely into modern art."

Afraid to share his feelings since they were kind of old-fashioned but deciding to do so anyway, Justin said, "I like Michelangelo."

"Yeah?" Xavier smiled. "Me too."

Justin returned his smile shyly, glad to have met Xavier.

"I like Cindy Sherman. The really gross pictures," Rennie announced.

Justin laughed. "You would."

They spent the rest of the afternoon together during the remainder of the orientation activities and made plans to meet up again tomorrow evening at the reception for new students. Justin was walking on air as he headed for the bus stop. He couldn't believe he'd found such amazing friends already and it was only the second day. Of course, that only made him think about Daphne. He wondered how she was doing at school and hoped she'd found some new friends too. She hadn't called again since she'd first arrived there but the weekend was coming up and if she didn't call him, he'd call her. He missed her. When the bus arrived, he decided to go shopping instead of heading back home. Maybe he could find her something and send it. Let her know he was thinking about her. Least she'd only gone to New Jersey, he didn't know what he'd have done if she'd decided to go to Palo Alto like she'd planned. But scholarships to Princeton didn't come everyday and her parents had convinced her that it'd be better to be closer to home. In case something happened. To them. Or him. 

 

He spotted Justin waiting by the Jeep with a shopping bag in his hands as he got off the elevator in the parking garage. Strolling over nonchalantly as if he wasn't surprised, Brian pecked him on the lips and unlocked the door. Threw his briefcase in the back and went around to the driver's side. Once they were both strapped in, he started the car and backed out of his space. "What's up?"

"I was out shopping and thought we could have dinner."

"Where?"

Justin leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, content just to be with Brian. "I don't care."

They ended up at this Mexican place Justin loved and had huge chicken chimichangas that were guaranteed to put ten pounds on them each.

Between bites, Justin told Brian about his new friends and all the exciting things they'd be doing in class once classes started and Brian smiled and laughed in all the right places and asked all the right questions and never let his attention lag or wander and never once let on that he was shaking on the inside.

"The Institute teaches these night classes for the public, I bet you could take a photography class." But Brian shook his head. "We could be together," Justin said, hoping to change his mind. "I could come over from the studio during breaks and we could hang out."

Brian toyed with his bottle of beer. "That's your place. I don't want to interfere in that."

"You wouldn't be. I want to share it with you."

"And you will. I'll come down to your studio and look at your stuff, and come to your shows. That's enough." Even though he knew he was right to say it, he felt a little sad, that he was making it easier for Justin to spend time away from him.

"What's wrong?" the teen asked, sensitive to every shift in his mood.

Instead of replying, 'Nothing,' Brian decided to come clean. "You've got so much ahead of you, Justin. You're gonna meet new people... Do new things... I don't want to stand in the way of that."

"We can do them together."

"Maybe. Some things. Others... You're gonna have to go it alone sometimes. That's the way life is."

"It doesn't have to be that way with us."

"Especially with us," Brian said with a tiny laugh.

Justin stole a sip of Brian's beer. "The age thing again," he commented ruefully.

"The age thing," agreed Brian.

Gazing at Brian from beneath his eyelashes, Justin asked softly, "You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

"I'll be there," Brian assured him. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

"I could stay over tonight at your place," he suggested.

"Didn't you promise your mom you'd stay at Deb's tonight?"

"Yeah, but--"

"But nothing."

"I miss you."

Brian glanced away then looked back and smiled. "You can stay over the weekend." Added, "It's probably a good idea that you spend more time at Deb's. You're gonna be in class half the day... Working... You don't want to burn yourself out."

Not wanting to admit it, he did anyway. "My mom thinks I should only stay over on the weekends."

"Maybe she's right," Brian said in a quiet voice.

Justin looked up in alarm. "Things are already changing. What's gonna happen with us?"

"I don't know," Brian confessed. "But I want you to do well. I want you to be the best thing that school's ever seen. The best, period."

"Like you?"

He grinned. "Like me."

They finished at the restaurant and Brian drove Justin back to Deb's place where they sat in the Jeep for the longest time, just being together, Justin's fingers entwined with Brian's. Talking about their plans for the weekend, Gus' upcoming first birthday, visiting Daphne at Princeton... Finally, Brian leaned over and kissed the teen, signaling the end of their evening. Justin clutched his arm for a moment, then released him and got out of the car. Waved and went inside. Brian watched the door close and drove off. 

 

But instead of going home, he stopped in at Woody's to see if the guys were there. They were. Holding court around a pool table. Michael, as usual, oblivious to the flickers of interest coming from the guys that passed by; Ted, aware of the interest and wishing it were directed towards him; and Emmett, actively generating as much interest as possible. Pausing to grab a beer first and successfully fending off two tricks, Brian joined them.

"Where's the Boy Wonder?" Michael asked, taking a shot.

"Home in bed, I hope."

Emmett raised an arched brow. "So why aren't you?"

"In his bed at Deb's," he explained.

"Ah," said Ted, "that explains why His Majesty deigns to consort with the peasants."

"I thought I'd up the class quotient."

Having lost control of the table, Michael perched on a stool next to Brian. "So how's he like college so far?"

"They haven't started classes yet." Knocked back his beer. "But he's met some kids already."

"Any cute, gay boys?" Em inquired.

"Looking for a new beau?"

"Honey, I leave the chickens to the chickenhawk." They all pointed at Brian.

"Fuck all of you."

"So?" pressed Michael.

"I don't know."

"You worried?"

"What? That he'll meet some kid who could actually compete with me? Yeah. Right."

"It could happen," said Em. "It's possible."

"Just not probable," added Ted. "Accountants love probabilities," he explained. "And I would say that the probability of Justin actually voluntarily leaving Brian for another twink would be in the point oh oh oh oh oh one percentile range." He paused and said for Em's benefit, "Highly unlikely."

Michael's dark eyes grew darker as he watched Brian shrug off the line of inquiry. But he couldn't keep himself from asking, "What would you do? If he did?"

"Go on. Life wouldn't end, you know," he said casually.

Ted shook his head, still not believing it, "Brian fuckin' Kinney in a relationship. Miracles never cease."

"In that case, you might actually get lucky."

As he prepared to take his shot, Ted replied, "Lucky in love, unlucky in life; lucky in life, unlucky in love. Out of the two, I'd pick life."

"I've got both," bragged Brian.

"Lucky you." 

 

Putting the finishing touches on his wardrobe, Brian asked Justin, "So is this Xavier kid gay?"

"You looking for a replacement?"

"Are you?" Brian asked breezily.

"No, he's not gay," Justin replied. "I didn't get any kind of vibe from him."

"Oh, and you're the expert on the gay vibe?"

Justin came up behind Brian and tickled him then scampered away before Brian could retaliate. "I knew you were gay."

Like he was confiding a secret to Justin, Brian whispered in his ear, "It could have been the fact that we were on Liberty Avenue and I was coming out of a gay club."

Justin swatted him away. "I couldn't believe it when you came up to me. I kept thinking, 'No way is this guy coming to me. He's fuckin' gorgeous. Why would he want me?' "

Brian raked his hair from his eyes. "Because you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen," he said softly, without any trace of guile. "So innocent. I've never looked like that. I guess that's why--" He bit off the thought.

"Why what?"

"Why I wanted you," he replied easily, although they both knew he was lying, that what he was really talking about was the incident with his coach. They'd never discussed it again, since the night Brian confessed his fears to him about their first time together. Justin supposed they never would. He'd been so scared that night, not knowing if he'd said the right things, if he'd convinced Brian of anything, if they'd always have the rape between them like an ugly reminder of how things might have been if they'd been different people. Even now, sometimes, he looked at Brian and he didn't see him as he was now, he saw him as he'd probably been back then: scared and hurt and confused. Maybe he still was.

Brian turned and modeled his outfit. "How do I look?"

"Amazing." And he did. In a light, almost gossamer silk and wool blend grey sweater, not as slutty as the one he'd worn to Into the Woods but damned close; paired with black stove-pipe pants and his square-toed Prada boots. Okay, one pair of his square-toed Prada boots. He had three.

"You sure this is dressy enough?"

"They're artists. They can't afford Armani. You look wonderful." He smiled. "Just think: a whole three-day weekend." Then it hit him, suppose Brian didn't have the day off? "You're not going into the office on Monday, are you?"

"The office is closed." He took a dismaying look at Justin's outfit. "You're wearing that?"

Justin had on his blue sweater and a pair of jeans. "They already think I'm this rich kid, prep school dweeb, total wannabe artiste."

Brian gathered him in his arms and held him close. "I fuckin' love that uniform. It totally makes me hot."

"Yeah?" Justin's lips parted.

"Yeah." He nuzzled Justin's neck. "I think this calls for another photo shoot."

"We've got all weekend. A long weekend," he reminded him.

Brian nibbled at his ear. "Thank God for Labor Day." 

 

Brian parted from Justin at the door to grab a drink from the bar while the teen went in search of his friends. Found them standing in the corner looking bored. "Hey, guys."

"Hey, Boy Wonder." This from Rennie. She was still wearing black but had changed into a dress, a la Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice.

"Justin." Xavier gave Justin his hand. "What's up?"

"Nothing. You guys look like you're about to fall asleep."

"This reception is like a wake," Rennie pouted.

"That explains the dress," cracked Xavier. He and Justin grinned. "Seriously, it's totally dead. They won't even put on any good music. I mean, The Goldberg Variations? Even the music majors are starting to doze."

"And talk about a room full of lo--hello." Rennie glued her eyes one someone across the room. "What a babe. I hope he's one of the art professors."

"Who?" asked Justin.

"Why? You interested?" Rennie inquired.

With a slight smile, Justin replied, "No." But not for the reason she thought. "So where is this guy?" Rennie pointed. To Brian. And Justin almost fell out laughing. "Oh. Brian."

"You know him?" Rennie's estimation of him rose a few points. "So is he one of our art professors? Please say he's a sculptor. Look at those hands."

"Nope." Xavier and Rennie waited. "He's my boyfriend."

Xavier found his voice first. "Your boyfriend?"

"You're gay?"

"Yep. Brian's in advertising," he added as if that made a difference. He could have been in pork belly futures as far as they were concerned.

"He's your boyfriend," Rennie restated. "Lucky bastard."

Giving Brian a smile from across the room, Justin agreed. "Don't I know it."

Not quite ready to meet the rest of the Rugrats, Brian returned Justin's smile and wandered the room. Stopping by a group of paintings done by upper-year students, Brian sipped his drink and worked up the courage to take on three teenagers at once. Someone stopped next to him. He turned. Not bad. Actually pretty good. Six one, heavy honey-blond hair, green eyes. Good hands.

"I hate these things." At Brian's look, he explained, "Not the paintings. These Art Department receptions. Boring as shit. Trevor Janson. Art faculty."

Brian took his hand. "Brian Kinney."

"You're not one of the new students, are you?"

"My school days are long past, Prof. I'm here with someone."

"A student?"

"Yep."

"Brother?"

"Nope."

"Cousin?" Brian shook his head. "You're too young to be somebody's dad."

"See the blond kid over there, next to the girl in black and the guy with the tattoos?"

Trevor plundered his memory and came up with a name. "Justin. I met him...yesterday."

"I'm with him," and Brian smiled to let him know just how it was with them and watched as comprehension dawned.

"Too bad," said Trevor, at last.

"Why's that?"

"I was hoping I'd have a chance."

Brian beat down a surge of jealousy. "With Justin?"

"With you." Trevor smiled and moseyed along. 

 

"So," Rennie asked, "do you care if people know you're gay?"

"Not anymore."

"Why's that?" Xavier wanted to know. "Why'd you say it like that?"

"Cause a third of Pittsburgh knows it. Or they will once the trial starts."

"The trial?"

"Yeah," and he explained about the prom and Chris Hobbs and waited for their faces to change or their attitude towards him to change, for them to pull away or worse, pity him. But they didn't do either one. Instead, they were cool about it.

"Now, that's some shit to channel into your art," pronounced Rennie.

"All I got is growing up poor in the projects," said Xavier.

They were still laughing when Brian sauntered over and slipped his arm around Justin's waist. "So," he said. "Introduce me."

"Brian, Xavier and Rennie. Xavier and Rennie, Brian."

Rennie held up her hand and Brian took it. "You're gorgeous," she gushed quite unexpectedly, sort of overcome by him up close. Immediately, her face turned red.

"So I've been told," he replied and he kissed her hand. When he let go, she looked as if she'd never wash it again. Justin caught Xavier's eye and shook his head.

Xavier gazed at Brian in amazement. "That's some powerful mojo."

"Tell me about it," Justin said, adding Rennie to the list of girls who'd fallen for Brian. Looks like Daphne had some competition. 

 

"So gay or not gay?" Justin asked Brian once they'd gotten home and crawled into bed.

"I can't tell. He wasn't interested in me," he answered, cutting off the light.

"And all gay guys are interested in you?"

"The smart ones are."

"What about me?" asked Justin, cozying up to Brian.

"You're the smartest one of all." 

 

True to his word Justin did have one of his school uniforms in his drawer at Brian's place and as he had promised, Brian popped in the film and took a series of definitely 'For Their Eyes Only' photos of his little boy: Justin on his belly, fully dressed, with his pants and underwear tugged down just below his buttocks; with his shirt unbuttoned just a little and pushed to one side to reveal his nipple ring; his tie stuffed in his mouth and his cock hard and drawn through the fly of his trousers; the tail of his shirt pulled up out of his pants to show his waist chain; on his back wearing only the jacket, with his tie wrapped around his cock; standing with his shirt raised up under his arms, nothing else on, and his hands tied behind his back; sitting at Brian's desk, only the top half of him clothed, his cock and balls hanging free between his thighs; lying on his back almost completely naked, legs raised to take off his pants which were caught around one ankle; and standing against the column by the desk wearing only his tie, slightly loosened around his neck.

Having taken the last picture on the roll, Brian put aside the camera and they came together, hard as hell, rubbing their dicks against the other's belly and hip, leaving trails of precum. Justin made a tunnel of his hand and held their cocks together, sliding his fist back and forth along their shafts as they devoured one another's mouth.

Justin sat on his lap while Brian licked his underarms--deodorant-free in preparation for the afternoon's activities--and sucked his tits. Standing, the teen rubbed his cock along Brian's belly and chest, then brushed the head against his lover's throat. Brian slipped a condom over the wet tip and sucked him until Justin cried out and begged him to eat his ass. He turned and grabbed hold of the desk while Brian spread his cheeks and licked his hole until it was wet, until the lips relaxed, until his hole opened up for Brian's tongue, until Brian's tongue was necessarily replaced by his finger; and then Brian fingered his hole until it was loose, until it needed two fingers to really do the job, until what he really needed--what they both needed--was for Brian to fuck him.

Wapped in latex and lubed, Brian's cock waited patiently for Justin's hole to slide down the length of its shaft. Removing the condom from his dick, Justin pressed down on the neck until the head touched Brian's stomach. He stood over Brian, his legs bent and held onto his shoulders in one hand while Brian thrust up into him. They fucked like this for a while until his legs grew tired and he sat down upon Brian's lap, cock buried completely in his hole. He reached back for the desk and gripped it while Brian rose from the chair and held onto his thighs, Justin's legs over his arms and the teen's back and hips up in the air. He began jabbing against his ass, grunting with the effort of supporting a great deal of Justin's weight and because he was getting closer to his climax. He pushed Justin onto the desk, thighs still gripped in his hands, and began the last leg of his race. Sweat dripping onto the teen's body, Brian plunged into his hole with abandon. Justin grabbed his dick and began pulling on it. Moaned and aimed it at Brian's belly. His cum splattered Brian's skin and rolled down into his pubic hair. "Fuck!" Brian shouted and he held Justin to him as he bucked against the youth and pumped his load into the condom. 

 

Having survived the first day of class and Professor LeGrange's dry lecture on the birth of modern art, the three friends rejoiced at being released in time for a late lunch.

Xavier was completely outdone. "How could you turn something as exciting as modern art into something so boring?"

"Welcome to college," Justin answered.

"So you blew us off Sunday."

He slapped his forehead. "I totally forgot. Sorry."

Rennie gave him a knowing grin. "Too busy enjoying the looong weekend."

"Wasn't long enough." He bit into his sandwich and ate it with a smile.

"Who are you sharing a studio with?" Xavier asked.

"Bledsoe." Both Rennie and Xavier groaned. Bledsoe was the only person who'd actually enjoyed LeGrange's lecture. "Could be worse. Could have gotten Rachel McGowan." They all agreed. Rachel had piped up every ten minutes in Freshman Seminar to protest the lack of emphasis on feminist art in the curriculum.

"She makes me feel like a slacker," confessed Rennie who claimed to be a feminist, just not a radical feminist.

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"I think we're driving to Princeton to see my friend, Daphne. She's been gone two weeks and I totally miss her." He had an idea. "Hey. You guys wanna come? We're leaving Friday after Brian gets off from work and getting a room. We'll spend Saturday there and leave early Sunday. Should be back in town by one, two o'clock. What do you think?"

"I'm all for it," said Rennie.

"I bet you are," teased Xavier. None of them could forget how she's practically salivated over Brian. "Do you think Brian would mind?"

"Not a problem." 

 

"What!"

Justin held the phone away from his ear and hoped the ringing would stop sometime this millennium. "They won't take up much room. They'll pay their own way." He added feebly, "And Rennie really likes you."

"Fuck. Four teenagers."

"Three."

"Plus Daphne once we get there. And however many of her spastic friends she'll drag along." He groaned. "Maybe I'll drop you off and I'll go hang out in Philly until Sunday."

"No. I want to go with you. I want to be with you."

"But we'll have company," Brian reminded him.

"They'll get their own rooms. Please."

"Justin..."

"I got my uniform dry-cleaned."

There was a silence at the end of the line, then, "Shit."

Justin grinned. He had him. 

 

The guys couldn't believe it. Emmett almost choked on his steak. Of course, since they were at the diner, the steak was tough to begin with. "No fucking way."

"I promised Justin I would drive him to see Daphne this weekend."

Michael laughed. "And you're taking two of his little friends along? Fuck! I wish I could see that."

"You will. On the six o'clock news. 'Crazed advertising executive kills teenagers on the Pennsylvania Turnpike,' " said Ted.

"You can all just fuck off."

"Well," Emmett surmised, "obviously the Boy Wonder neglected to tell them about our fun-filled trip back from New York City wherein, if I remember correctly, Brian tried to reach into the back seat, while driving, to throw Justin from the car."

"I warned him about singing 'People,' " said Michael.

"There's the problem," explained Ted. "No short- or long-term memory."

Brian cradled his head. "Why do I feel like I'm making the biggest fucking mistake of my life?" 

 

Twenty-four hours later, he knew why he had felt that way: because he had made the biggest fucking mistake of his life. Having listened to TLC for the last fifty miles he was ready to toss all of them out of the car just to get rid of that fuckin' CD. As it began to play for the fourth time, he pushed the stop button and ejected it. Taking the jewel case from the floor, Justin put the CD aside and asked, "What's next?"

"I got some Mary J. Blige," said Xavier.

Brian gave Justin a sideways look. "Um, not right now. How about some Moby?" When no one objected, Justin popped in the CD.

"So what kind of music do you like, Brian?" Rennie asked and the boys snickered at her pathetic attempt to make conversation.

"He's more of a Fatboy Slim, Crystal Method kind of person," Justin explained when no answer seemed forthcoming from Brian.

"There's this club," Xavier began, "in Dupont Circle that you'd love. They play techno house music and all the cute gay guys hang out there." At Justin's look, he added, "That's what they say. Me? I'm into The Fugees, De La Soul, Outkast, Snoop Doggy Dog..."

"Have you seen the trailer for Bones?" Rennie wrinkled her nose. "Pee-ew."

"You don't get it. It's like a cross Superfly and Tales from the Hood."

While Rennie and Xavier debated the merits of blaxploitation films then and now, Justin took a moment to check on their driver. "You okay?"

"I fuckin' hate the Turnpike."

"I could drive."

Brian sneered. "You sure that's Mountain Dew you're drinking? Cause I think you're hallucinating."

"I'm a good driver," Justin protested.

"Yeah. Right." He gestured at the teen. "Just turn around and play host. Ess." 

 

They pulled into the motel parking lot around two thirty and Brian got out to get their keys. He'd made reservations for them all yesterday. After he saw Rennie and Xavier to their rooms, he returned to the one he and Justin shared and heard the teen tell Daphne, "So I'll see you in the morning. Later," just as he walked in. Looked around. They weren't bad rooms as motels went. Decorated in early modern crap. Throwing off his jacket, he headed for the bathroom and a much-needed leak. Justin had undressed and gotten into bed by the time he returned. Dropping his clothes to the floor, Brian crawled under the covers and shut his eyes. In a moment, Justin moved closer to him and laid a possessive arm over his hip. It was the last thing he remembered. 

 

Teenagers were like puppies, Brian decided, watching Justin and his best friend cavorting in the parking lot of her dorm. Even Rennie and Xavier were excited and they didn't even know her except through Justin. Beaming, Daphne released Justin long enough to give Brian a shy kiss which he had to lean down to receive. "Hey, Daphne."

"Hey, Brian."

"Are all the co-eds as hot as you?"

She giggled. "Nope."

"Good girl. Know your worth I always say."

Climbing into the back seat between Xavier and Rennie, Daphne directed them to one of the main streets in town and they found a cute little place to have breakfast. Afterwards, she took them on a walking tour of the campus and the surrounding area, keeping up a virtually non-stop narrative on the history of the university, of Mathey College, and Blair Hall where she lived. Brian was impressed. He couldn't believe she'd only been there two weeks. He hadn't known that much about Penn State by the time he'd graduated from there.

Of course, Justin's two new friends fell in love with Daphne. They couldn't help themselves, she was just too full of life.

"I think your friend's a honey," Xavier confided in Justin while the two girls were over looking at some jewelry in one of the funkier shops on Nassau Street. Brian had opted to wait outside and enjoy the peace and quiet and an iced latte while the other four window-shopped.

Justin's response was interrupted by a new arrival in the store. The guy, absolutely hot and hunky, gave him a thorough once-over and smiled. Xavier nudged Justin. "That guy was seriously sweating you." Justin grinned. It was kind of nice to be noticed. Usually guys completely by-passed him for Brian but every now and then he was the one they wanted and it felt good. Not that he really cared. As long as Brian wanted him no one else mattered. Still, it was kinda nice.

They had lunch at a place on Nassau that Brian said wasn't the worst Chinese food he'd ever eaten and they planned to drive over to New Brunswick to have dinner at The Frog and the Peach. Brian had gotten the name from one of his online buddies and was dying to try it out. "Least I'll get something out of this trip," he said as he got dressed.

Justin embraced him from behind. "If you're lucky, tonight you'll get something else."

Skeptical, Brian asked, "Like what?"

Justin released him and opened his bags. Pulled out the tie from his uniform. "I couldn't bring it all but..."

Licking his lips, Brian growled. "Come on. The sooner we get there the sooner we can come back and play."

"Brian..."

Sensing something was about to rain on his parade, Brian turned his attention to choosing a shirt to wear. He had two laid out on the bed before him. One maroon, one blue. "What?"

"Do you mind if I don't go to the restaurant? Daphne and me, we've hardly had a chance to spend any time together today. Please?"

Brian picked up one of the shirts, the blue one. "No problem."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He kissed the teen quickly, then resumed dressing so as not to let Justin see the hurt look in his eyes. 

 

"Brian didn't mind?"

"You kidding?" He was probably hoping to ditch us tonight." Xavier and Rennie had bailed on dinner too, preferring to hang out at the local pizza place and check out the college scene. Daphne and Justin grabbed a pie and took it back to her room so they could talk undisturbed. "We made him listen to TLC like three times on the way up. I thought his head was gonna explode." They giggled.

"So, I guess you've replaced me, huh?"

"Daph, no one could replace you. That's why I had to find two people." When she looked confused, he explained, "A black guy and a white girl. One wasn't enough."

She laughed and pushed him. "You are such a goon."

"You are."

"No, you are."

"You make any friends yet?"

"It's a bigger place, you know? So, I figure it's gonna take a while. But I saw this guy down in the library yesterday. I think he lives here in the dorm. He was checking me out."

Justin bumped her with his shoulder. "Xavier said he thinks you're a honey."

"He does?" She finished chewing her pizza. "What a relief. I thought he was gay."

"No way."

"I was getting worried."

"Didn't think you had a chance with him, huh?"

She swallowed. "No, I thought he might be competition. For Brian."

Justin laughed. "Daphne, no one can compete with Brian."

"You make a cute couple."

"He asked me to move in with him."

"No way!"

"I told him no," he said casually.

"What? Why?"

"Cause we aren't ready to live together."

"That's cool too." She sipped her soda and suddenly bounced. "What about Rennie? Is she? "

"Oh my God," he said. "You should have seen her face when she first met Brian. She actually told him he was gorgeous." Justin shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it.

"Well, he is."

"Which is why I wish you wouldn't tell him. His head is big enough as is."

Grinning mischievously, Daphne said, "Sure is." She'd only gotten a glimpse of it that time in the loft, but once was enough.

Justin almost choked on his soda. "Daph!"

She smirked. "I'm sorry. I've seen yours, too."

"Daph!" He laughed despite himself. "You are such a freak."

She bounced again and grinned. "Miss me?"

He nodded. "Like crazy." 

 

The maitre d' met him at the door. "Yes, sir."

"I have a reservation. For Kinney." Waited and watched as the guy glanced behind him. "The rest of my party won't be joining me," he explained.

"Right this way, sir."

Brian followed him to a table for two and sat down. Took the menu from him, "Thanks," and opened up the wine list although he didn't think he'd have any. So, here he was in one of the best restaurants on the East Coast. Alone. Get used to it, he told himself. Cause this is how it's going to be.

"Um..."

He looked up. A man was standing next to the table. An attractive man. A man who was most definitely not the waiter. "Yes?"

"I noticed you were alone. So am I." He looked away, then back at Brian, a bashful smile on his face, his brown eyes warm and familiar. "I thought maybe we could share a table."

Brian studied his face for a moment. Good-looking, not in an overwhelming way, just handsome. He didn't really want to eat alone, so, "Sure. Why not?" he said. What could it hurt? He'd have dinner with the guy and drive back to the motel a virtuous man.

"Adam Kincaid."

"Brian Kinney." They shook hands.

"I'm in town on business," Adam explained as he took a seat across from Brian. "Heard about this place from a friend who said I had to stop in if I got a chance."

"Same here. The recommendation part, I mean."

The waiter came with their water and inquired about the wine list. Brian declined and Adam decided to have a Cosmopolitan instead.

"You in town on business?" he asked once the waiter had gone to fill his drink order.

"No. Visiting Princeton with someone."

When Brian wasn't forthcoming with additional details, Adam asked, "You have a falling-out?"

"No." Brian smiled. "He wanted to spend time with a friend, I wanted to come here." Tapping his water glass, he explained, "We aren't very good at compromising yet."

"Maybe there was no need."

"Maybe there wasn't," he agreed.

"I guess I'm a poor substitute," Adam said ruefully.

"No offense."

"None taken."

The waiter returned with Adam's cocktail and took their order, promising to return with their first courses in a few minutes.

"How long have you been together?"

Brian wondered how to explain it, then decided what the hell did it matter? "A few months or a year depending on how you look at it."

"You knew each other before you got together officially."

"Exactly."

Adam's eyes wandered over Brian's face and body, from his hazel eyes to his perfectly-shaped lips to his fine fingers. "He must be something else."

"You could say that," Brian replied with a little laugh.

They passed a pleasant enough evening together, both agreeing that the food was superb and worthy of the accolades heaped upon the restaurant. Brian even broke down and had dessert, a piece of chocolate torte cake with a raspberry sauce that was out of this world. Licking a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth, he became aware of Adam's intense stare. The man turned away and pretended to study a painting on the wall. Dinner's over, he decided and signaled for the check.

Adam walked him to the Jeep, having taken a cab to the restaurant he explained. "You want a lift back to your hotel?"

"No, it's not far. I need the walk."

With a little shake of his head, Brian smiled. "I was sure you were going to invite me back to your room."

"If I thought you'd accept, I would." Adam raised an eyebrow. "But you wouldn't, would you?"

Brian gave another little shake of his head. "Not this time."

"So, the walk'll do me good." Adam extended his hand. "Thanks for dinner."

"You too."

He smiled and began walking down the street, hands in his pockets, head slightly lowered.

Brian watched him, holding the door in his hand, and told himself that the wise thing to do would be to get in the Jeep and drive back to Princeton. He remembered his conversations with Drew, dissecting his motives, trying to figure out why he did the things he did, and he paused and thought it over. You're pissed cause Justin didn't come with you and you're about to do something incredibly stupid. Climbing into the Jeep, he shut the door, started the ignition, and hit the street. As he drove past Adam he gave him a little wave and headed out of town. 

 

Justin was sitting on the bed watching TV when he returned. "How was dinner?"

"Fabulous. You missed a great meal."

"Maybe next time."

"Yeah. Maybe next time." Telling himself to let it go, Brian started stripping.

"It was okay, wasn't it? That I didn't go?" Justin asked, aware of a kind of distance in Brian's voice, in the way he wouldn't look at him.

He paused and decided to tell the truth, to talk things out the way he'd promised he would. "I really wanted you to come with me." Started undressing again. "But I understand why you wanted to stay with Daphne."

"I didn't choose her over you," Justin explained. "It's just that--I don't know when I'll see her again."

"I know." He worked the kinks out of his neck and folded his clothes, took out his travel bag and put them inside. After he was done, he sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do next. Justin crawled over and knelt behind him, began to massage his shoulders and neck. It felt so good, to let go of the tension and the anger, Justin easing them out with his hands. "Thanks, baby."

Justin slipped his arms around his shoulders. Kissed the nape of his neck. "Thank you. For understanding."

They curled up on the bed and watched About Mrs. Leslie, an old Shirley Booth movie, on AMC until midnight, then fell asleep in one another's arms. 

 

Daphne met them early in the morning and hugged each of them, even Xavier and Rennie, her eyes misty. Justin's too. Brian kissed her and told her to take care of herself and her face lit up. Justin groaned inwardly. Now, she'd be impossible. Sometimes he thought Brian flirted with her just because it made him crazy. "Call me," she said.

"I will." Giving her a final hug and a kiss, he turned away quickly and got into the Jeep where the other three waited.

Brian waved and started the car. Glanced at Justin out of the corner of his eye. The teen's lashes were wet. Leaning over, he kissed him beside his mouth and wiped away a tear. "We'll be back. Okay?"

"Okay," he whispered. 

 

After a rather uneventful drive back to Pittsburgh, during which Xavier did all of the Oompa Loompa numbers from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as rap songs, and Rennie proclaimed that Veruca Salt was a mixture of Sally and Lucy from Peanuts, Brian dropped the two of them off at the Institute and carried Justin home to his place.

They fixed stir-fry for lunch, took a long nap, woke around four thirty, and leisurely made love for an hour or so. "To store up for the week," Brian said. Afterwards, they showered and went over to the Munchers' for dinner since Gus hadn't seen his Dadda for a while. Garlic chicken consumed, they sat around and played team Scrabble ("How Cosby Show," Brian commented.) and the women gave the two men a terrible whipping. Brian shook his head in disappointment. "A fifteen hundred on your SATs and you still can't beat two lesbians?"

"I'm not playing by myself, you know," Justin reminded him and Brian gave him the finger.

"Sore losers," teased Lindsay and Mel added, "Disgruntled," which really hurt because that had been one of the words that had sealed Brian and Justin's doom.

By the time they got to Deb's house they were ready to forgive if not forget. After all, it was just a game. Nothing a hot and heavy make-up--out--session in the back seat couldn't cure. Climbing down from Brian's lap, Justin straightened his clothes and got his bag from the floor. They both moved from the back, Brian to the front seat and Justin to the sidewalk. He leaned in the window. "It's gonna be a long week."

Brian gestured for him to get back in the Jeep, which he did. "Your mom didn't say anything about us not seeing each other, just that you shouldn't spend so much time over at my place. Right?"

"Right. So?"

"So...we can still meet at the diner, and I can come over to Deb's sometimes. Maybe come down to the Institute and you can show me your studio."

"You'd really come?"

"I went to your boring as hell reception, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"So maybe it won't be so bad after all."

"Maybe."

"Now, go on inside before Deb calls you on your cellphone. And bitches at me."

They kissed again. "Later."

"Later."

Justin got out of the car and waited until Brian drove away. Then picked up his bag and headed inside. He remembered his mom telling him that being in college would be some of the best days of his life and she was right. He couldn't imagine things being any better. But with Brian, he knew that they could be.

An hour later, as he sat in bed doodling, his cell rang. "Hello?" he answered.

"I love you."

He smiled. "You too." Brian hung up without saying goodbye and Justin sat on the bed content. These were definitely the best days of their lives. 

 

 _I can see the magic in your eyes baby.  
I can feel the sunlight from your smile,   
maybe I could deceive myself,   
but why should I deny that you belong to me,   
I belong to you._

 

"Trip on Love" written by Tom Kimmel/Liz Vidal, WB Music Corp./Maverick Music (ASCAP)/Samaxian Music (ASCAP) and performed by Abra Moore on the _Cruel Intentions_ soundtrack, Virgin Records America, Inc., 1999.

"Down by the River" written by Des'ree and Prince Sampson, Sony/ATV Music PUblishing UK Ltd., 1998.


	11. Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang celebrates Gus' 1st birthday in the aftermath of tragedy; and Brian and Justin hold private festivities commemorating their first year together.  
>  **Warning:** This story contains references to the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major angst ahead.

Watching the scenes of devastation unfold in startling Technicolor, the magnitude of the destruction awesome in its scale, he cast his mind about for something human-sized and stable to hold onto and came up with a face and a name: Matt. _Christ_. He shut his eyes. _Matt worked there_. Just some guy he'd fucked a couple times in college. Went to New York to work in the financial district. Emailed him, what? This past year? Year before last? Wanted to know if they could get together sometime. And he'd emailed him back and asked him, _What for?_ Now, he was probably dead. Brian started to cut off the TV when he heard Justin come in and throw his bag down on the floor by the desk. As he looked over at him, he could tell that the teen was shaken. Without a word, Justin came and curled against his side. Sliding a strong arm around him, Brian lowered the volume on the television, dropped the remote, and held him.

"If you had gotten that job, you could have been there," Justin said against his chest, trembling ever so slightly.

"I would have been on Madison Avenue."

"You don't know. You could have been there to see someone for a meeting, to have brunch... anything."

And Brian thought, _Matt_ and decided not to tell Justin he'd actually known someone who'd worked there. Instead he tried to reassure him. "But I wasn't. I'm here and I'm fine." And he thought of the plane that had crashed not far from Pittsburgh. Maybe fine was a word that didn't really mean much anymore.

Justin raised his face and glanced at the news, then looked away, the sight of the collapsing tower too much. "All those people, Brian. All those people…"

"I know, baby."

"Why?"

Why indeed. That was the question only a few people could answer, yet the answer would never be enough to explain this. He shook his head, having no answer at all.

Justin tightened his arms around him. "I don't know what I'd do..."

"You don't have to think about that." He looked down into his tear-stained face. "I'm not going anywhere. Neither one of us is," he said, remembering the frantic nights he'd spent worried that Justin wasn't going to make it even after he'd woken up, sitting by his side, watching him sleep, and he held him even closer, the teen all the more precious to Brian for nearly having lost him.

In a soft voice, Justin asked, "Can I stay here tonight with you?" and Brian kissed the top of his head and inhaled his scent, the fragrance of the living. 

 

Someone was yelling. At first he thought he had cried out in his sleep but it wasn't him. It was Justin. Again. Another dream about Chris Hobbs. "Justin." Brian gently shook him. "Wake up. Justin. Baby, wake up." The teen opened his eyes and jumped, then slumped against his lover. Brian held him. "I'm here," he said soothingly, stroking Justin's hair and face, knowing how disconcerted he was when he woke from one of those dreams, Brian's presence the sole grounding element in his environment. He kissed the boy tenderly. "You okay?"

Despite shaking a little, Justin nodded his head. "Yeah," he whispered, wrapping his arms around Brian's waist and laying his head upon his chest. "I dreamt I was in one of the airplanes that crashed into the World Trade Center... and just as we were about to hit, this baseball bat came at me." He shuddered. God, what would he do when the trial started? How many dreams would he have? "If I hadn't jerked him off--"

"No," said Brian in firm voice. "Fuck that. That's bullshit. If he didn't want you to do it, he should have said so, he didn't have to take a fuckin' baseball bat..." Brian hugged him. "You didn't do anything wrong. Those people today didn't do anything wrong." He held Justin tight. "I wanted to kill him," he confessed. "I was holding that bat in my hands and I wanted..."

"I'm glad you didn't. That's not you." He sniffled and raised his head. Smiled crookedly. "I love you."

"What else is new?"

"You wanna fool around?"

"No, I want you to go to sleep." _Yeah. Right_.

Lifting both eyebrows, Justin asked, "You sure?"

"Yeah. Now, go to sleep." He added a beat later, "We can fool around in the morning." Justin settled down and for a moment Brian actually believed he would get back to sleep. Then, as he'd feared, the teenager spoke.

"We were in class. Another boring lecture on modern art. Rennie had drawn this picture of LaGrange in drag. He was the ugliest fuckin' drag queen in history." Brian chuckled. "And then someone came in and said that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center."

Cynthia had buzzed him and he'd gone to the conference room where there was a television. Everyone on their floor was there. Watching in disbelief as the second plane crashed into the other tower.

"It was like something out of a movie. One minute we're listening to LaGrange drone on about European modernism and the next we're listening to the radio over the intercom. They cancelled the rest of our classes and we went to the auditorium. Someone had hooked up a TV to the projection system and we watched the towers fall."

Brian absent-mindedly rubbed Justin's shoulder with his thumb as he spoke. "I remember the first time I saw them up close. It was weird because they used them in _King Kong_ , the one with Jessica Lange. Me and Mikey, we watched that on TV one Saturday. And to be in New York, looking up at the two towers... it was unreal."

"Did you go inside?"

"No," Brian replied. "And now I never will." 

Holding an empty tray in one hand, Debbie poured Brian a cup of coffee with the other. "He stay over at your place?"

"Yeah." Reached for the sugar. "He was really freaked out by what happened."

"Join the club," muttered Ted.

"I called David," Michael said. "I don't even know why. I just needed to know he was okay. Even after everything that's happened."

No one said anything, they all understood the impulse.

"His mom called, looking for him."

Emmett said around a strawberry, "Uh-oh."

"We didn't hear anything from her." Brian took a cautious sip of coffee. "What did she expect?"

"Brian--"

"You know," he continued, feeling the anger mount, "we try. But I'm getting really tired of having to tiptoe around like we're doing something wrong. I know he's in school, I know that comes first but, fuck it, what about..." He let it go, trying to let go of the anger.

"What about you?" suggested Michael.

"What about us!" he exclaimed and immediately clamped down on the surge of rage that threatened to explode. Studying the coffee cup in front of him, he felt the tension lessen, explained quietly after a moment, "He has these dreams..."

"I know," Deb said.

"Sometimes he holds me so tight, I can't breathe."

Ted ran his finger around the rim of his cup. "Blake used to do that. When the cravings got real bad." He looked away, moisture gathering at the corner of one eye.

Emmett put down his fork. "I can't believe they're gone."

"The towers?" asked Ted.

"All those people," Emmett replied. "Imagine how their families must feel. And their kids. And they just keep showing that fucking clip over and over again. Hasn't everyone seen it already?"

"I knew someone who worked there," Brian said quietly.

Michael's head whipped around. "Who?"

"Guy named Matt. Used to fuck around in college." He pushed his coffee away, done with it.

"You should have something to eat," Deb said.

But he shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"Starving yourself won't change anything."

Catching and holding her gaze, he replied, "Nothing anyone does ever changes anything." Standing, he laid some money down on the table. "And if you don't believe it, ask those people who died." Without saying anything else, he left, Deb and the gang speechless for a while.

"Wow," said Em. "He's really upset about this."

""Did you know this Matt guy?" Ted asked Michael.

"He's not upset about Matt."

"Then what is it?"

Michael laid his fork down upon his plate and admitted, "Beats me." 

Having decided to skip lunch, Brian remained in his office, trying to focus on work that had suddenly, in the wake of yesterday's events, become trivial. He had just decided to give up when Michael knocked and came in. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to present you with your award for 'Best Drama Queen Performance before 9 a.m.,' " said Michael, handing him a bag from the diner.

"Fuck you," he replied, but he took the bag and opened it. Found a sandwich inside. Turkey on rye, cut into two halves.

Having produced two sodas as well and a couple of lemon bars from the bag, the two best friends sat at Brian's desk and ate. "So what was this morning all about?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Maybe you and the Boy Wonder need to do it more often."

"We did it this morning."

"Okay, maybe less often."

"We're down to weekends as is." He picked at his lemon bar, then added angrily, "They're not coming between us. I won't let 'em."

"Them who?" asked Michael.

"The world," he answered. "Everyone's just waiting for us to crash and burn. His mom, his dad, my mom, Ryder, you--"

"Hold on--"

"Don't deny it." Brian fixed Michael with a deep-seeing stare.

Michael met his stare, clear-eyed. "It's not true. I don't understand what the fuck you're doing with him sometimes but I'm not waiting for you to break up. Or trying to break you up, like you did to me and David."

"I got you back together again too, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did." Didn't matter though, they still ended up on opposite ends of the country.

"I love him, Mikey," he said. "That's why I'm with him."

Michael chewed his lemon bar before asking, "But why, Brian? Why him?"

"You were there, Mikey. You've been there from the beginning and you don't understand." He chuckled bitterly. "So what kind of a chance do we have convincing anybody else that this isn't just a game?" he asked, looking away, not wanting Michael to see the pain in his eyes but Michael could see it in the set of his shoulders, hear it in his voice.

Alarmed, he said, "Brian, he's just a kid. I know he's mature and all for his age and he loves you, but he's only eighteen. Do you remember what we were like at eighteen?"

"I was trying to fuck every hot guy I could get my hands on."

"Exactly."

"Justin's not like that."

"Then what's wrong?" Michael asked.

"Between my job, his job, school, and Gus, we hardly ever see each other anymore and--" He raked his hand through his hair and started to speak, then paused, began again. "You think... you think he's going to leave me, don't you?"

"I hope that he doesn't." After having said that, Michael wondered if he was really telling the truth and decided not to face that demon today.

"But you think he will."

"Brian..."

"So do I." Brian stood and paced the room, not seeing the awards, the prints, the furniture. "Nothing lasts forever. Isn't that what we're supposed to learn from all this? I mean, the fuckin' Pentagon with a hole in the side and the World Trade Center towers, gone. Nothing's forever, nothing's promised to you, not even the next moment, so why put my faith in an eighteen-year old kid? I should just enjoy it while I can, huh? Is that all there is to us? Just fucking and being together right now? Being in love right now?"

"You used to not even believe in love," Michael pointed out.

"It was a lot fucking easier." He stared at nothing in particular. "What happens when he's gone? What do I have left?" Taking a deep breath, he said, "Sometimes I look around at my life and I wonder what the fuck do I really have? When I'm gone, what will I leave behind? Look at Matt. He's gone and what? Did anybody other than me even remember him? I don't want to end up like that. I don't want to look back on my life and realize that I had nothing. That I did nothing."

"You've got Gus."

"And I didn't want to do it except that I felt like I owed Lindsay." Brian sniffled. "Gus is the one right thing in my life. Gus and Justin. And if Justin leaves..."

"You'll still have Gus and all of us." Michael stood and crossed to Brian, took him in his arms. "You'll always have me. Friends forever, isn't that what we promised each other?" Brian nodded. "Okay, then, no more of this depressing shit."

But Brian didn't tell him what he really believed: that if buildings meant to last forever fell apart, what chance did people have? And if Justin left him, he didn't think he'd really care who else was left behind. He just didn't think he'd give a shit anymore. 

"Okay, Batman or Superman?" asked Emmett, carefully lifting a forkful of Orange Chicken to his mouth. That was the one thing about eating over at Brian's loft, everything was fucking white and you were terrified of dropping something. Each mouthful was an exercise in muscle and mind control.

Ted swallowed. "Which Batman and which Superman? There's Adam West--"

"Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer, and George Clooney," finished Michael.

"George Reeves, Christopher Reeve, or Dean Cain? Plus that new guy in Smallville," Ted said.

With a wave of his hand, Emmett replied, "Take your pick. Everybody has to pick someone." He stared at Brian, who had so far refused to play. "Everyone."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Dean Cain."

"Good choice," said Ted, "but a little pretty for my tastes."

"Then it's a good thing you'll never have to worry about turning him down."

"Who would you pick?" Ted asked Michael.

"Christopher Reeve. Brains and good looks. What about you?"

"Michael Keaton. He's cute but not too cute. Plus, his eyes were so intense." Ted smiled and asked of Emmett, "And madam?"

"Madam would like George Clooney and Val Kilmer."

"Greedy."

"Well, Val sucked as Batman but he was the best Doc Holiday the world has ever seen, so it balances out. George sucked as Batman too, but he was totally hunkalicious on ER. Dr. Ross could give me CPR anytime."

Michael turned to Brian who was sitting on the sofa behind him and Emmett. "Do you have the Batman movies?"

"I think so. I know I have the first one." As Michael got up to see, Brian said, "Don't bother. I have to replace the DVD player. Gus jammed a banana in it." The guys stared at him. "Don't ask me how the fuck he did it, he just did."

Michael went, "Um, what were you and Justin doing at the time?"

"We were not fucking," Brian replied. The guys waited. "Okay, we might have been making out on the couch."

Laughing, Emmett tut-tutted. "The pains of parenthood. Hey! Isn't it Gus' birthday soon?"

"Yeah, Lindsay's having a party at her place and you're all supposed to come. Next Saturday."

Michael pushed Brian with his back. "Thanks for the notice."

"You've got a whole week."

"Do you know how hard it is to find a present for a one year old?" asked Michael and the guys nodded in agreement. "What did you get him?"

"I haven't gotten him anything yet. Justin's coming with me this weekend to find something."

The other men all voiced a collective sigh of relief.

"What? Are you saying I'm not capable of finding a gift for my own kid?"

"I don't think Gus is into dildos," Em said.

"Actually, I think he gets a kick out of Lindsay taking his temperature," Brian said making a motion with his finger.

Michael almost choked on his soda. "Brian!"

"What? Like he ever had a chance to be straight," he said.

"Straight guys like dildos," Em said. "Least the ones I've slept with do." Brian laughed.

Ted scraped around in his carton for the last of his Kung Pao Chicken. "Okay. Ponch or Jon?"

All of the guys in unison said, "Ponch." 

Looking around to find Xavier at the door, Justin put down his sketch pad and let his friend in. "What's up?"

"You wanna grab something with Rennie and me or are you doing something with Brian tonight?"

"I'm supposed to meet him later but I can get something now and have something later. That's the benefit of having the metabolism of a gerbil on speed."

Xavier laughed. "That sounds like Brian."

"That was Brian." Justin smiled. "Where's Rennie?"

"Outside probably, scaring little children."

Justin locked the studio. "Bledsoe'll kill me if I leave it open. He seems to think everyone else in the Institute is trying to co-opt his art. He even made me sign a non-disclosure form."

"No way!"

"Nah." Justin laughed and Xavier pushed him.

Rennie met the guys outside and they walked to a pizza place not too far from campus where the boys divided a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and Rennie had a medium veggie one by herself. "So what are you and Brian doing this weekend?" she asked. Although she realized she could never have Brian, she liked living vicariously through Justin.

"Going shopping to find a present for Gus' first birthday."

"I thought you only had a sister," Xavier said.

"I do. Molly. Gus is Brian's son."

Pausing in the middle of raising her soda to her mouth, Rennie said, "His son?"

"Yeah."

"But I thought..."

"One of Brian's best friends is a lesbian and she and Melanie wanted a baby, so Brian donated some sperm and nine months later, there was Gus. I named him."

"You were there?"

"After he was born. That's the night Brian and I met."

"At the hospital?"

"No," he said shaking his head. "I met Brian outside of Babylon. We were at his place and we were doing it--actually, he was jerking me off--"

"Gross." Rennie.

He smiled and finished, "When Melanie called and said Gus had been born."

Xavier frowned. "So Brian was at a club the night his son was born?"

Justin popped a pepperoni slice in his mouth. "I know, it sounds kind of harsh but Brian's changed a lot since then. He never thought he'd actually want a kid. He just did it for Lindsay. But now, he really loves Gus. You should see them together. It's so cute. Gus looks just like him." He got out his wallet and dug out a picture of Dadda and Sonny Boy. "This is when Gus was still really small. He's bigger now. He's even walking. And talking. He calls Brian, 'Da da.'"

Justin's two friends marveled over the picture and Xavier said in amazement. "I still can't believe you've got a thirty year old boyfriend who has a kid. You'd never be able to tell from looking at you."

"Be able to tell what?" Justin asked.

"That you live the kind of life most people couldn't even begin to imagine."

"It's just life. I guess most people are like that. You don't really know what their lives are like until you get to know them." He laughed. "You could have some secret life that we don't know about."

Rennie joined in the teasing. "Yeah, Xavier, you could be an ordinary art school student by day and a... a rent boy by night." Justin laughed imagining Xavier in a pair of ripped jeans and a muscle tee trying to pick up closeted businessmen.

"No, I couldn't. I'm not gay," he said and there was something in his voice that was different, something tight.

Justin looked at him with concern in his eyes. "We were just joking."

"Yeah," said Rennie. "Lighten up. You're not cute enough to be a rent boy."

And even though Xavier did seem to relax and laugh and cut up with them the rest of the time they were together, Justin still felt as if something had changed between them, all in the space of a moment. Kind of like that airplane crashing into the World Trade Center. Nothing would ever be the same again. 

Brian pulled out a yellow 4x4. "What do you think?"

Justin took one look at it. "No way."

"I know, it's not black but--"

"You cannot get that for Gus."

"I can afford it."

"It's too big. He's too small. His feet'll slide through the opening and he could hurt himself. Melanie and Lindsay would kill you."

"Spoilsport."

"Besides, I think he likes riding with his Da da in his Jeep."

"Next year, then. I'll get him one of those baby Jeep Wranglers. But they only have red and blue. I wonder if you could special order--"

"So what are you going to get him this year?" You kind of had to keep Brian on track sometimes.

The proud papa took out a piece of paper. "The official list of Mommies' approved toys. Boring as shit."

"He's one. Life is exciting enough."

"You think?"

"I think you showing up period is enough for him. I can't wait until he starts to talk so you can understand most of what he's saying."

"I can."

"I love it when he says, 'Da da.' " The baby had begun to talk a little and had mastered da da, ma ma, and beh which was what he called the leather teddy bear Brian had gotten him. They were inseparable, to Melanie's chagrin. It also annoyed her that Gus went into a sing-song when Brian showed up, chanting "Da da da da da da," whenever his daddy came over for a visit or called.

"He's enough trouble as is. I still can't figure out how he got a fuckin' banana stuck in the DVD player without either of us seeing him." He glanced around and spotted another ride-on toy. "What about this?" Brian pulled out a little red fire truck. The baby was supposed to sit on top and use his feet to propel it forward or someone could push him. "ABC Sing Along Buggy," he read on the box. "It's on the list."

"I like it. It's small enough and he won't get his feet hung up in anything." He picked the box up and put it in their basket. "Come on. I still have to find something."

"This is from us."

"You sure?"

"Hand over your money." Justin laughed and pushed the cart towards the front. "I'm not kidding," said Brian. "I want cash."

"I'll give you something better."

Brian paused and grinned as he pulled out his check book. Definitely better. 

 

They sat on the floor wrapping Gus' presents. Of course, Brian had gotten him a number of the toys on the list and some things that weren't on the list. He noticed that Justin was quieter than usual. "What's wrong?"

"Something weird with Xavier."

"You'll have to be more specific."

The teen held his finger down in the middle of the ribbon while Brian tied it tightly. "We were eating pizza yesterday--"

"You had dinner with me yesterday."

"I had pizza too."

Brian shook his head. "Amazing."

"Anyway," Justin said, annoyed to be interrupted, "we were talking about how you can never really tell anything about a person from the outside and Rennie made this crack about Xavier secretly being a rent boy and he got kind of pissed."

"What the fuck does Rennie know about rent boys?"

"She saw that special on Showtime."

" 'No limits.' Yeah, right." Turning his mind to the issue at hand, he said, "Maybe he's in the closet."

"You think?"

"It's possible. Look at Mikey. No one at his job knows he's gay."

"Could you do that? Be in the closet?"

Brian thought about it. "I guess I kind of was. I mean, my parents didn't know."

"But everybody else did. And if they had asked you, straight out, would you have lied?"

"No. I would have told them." He finished writing their names on the gift cards and taped them onto the boxes. "There. I've done my daddy duty."

"Until next week."

Groaning, Brian dropped back against the sofa. "Don't remind me."

"Did you ever take Gus over to see your mom?"

Brian glanced away. "No." He waited for the inevitable.

"Why not?"

"Things happened."

"Like what?"

Like there hadn't been time before they went on vacation and then after they got back he'd gone over and taken the crystal decanter to her and things went okay but then two weeks later he'd called her and she'd acted bitchy on the telephone and he hadn't called her since. "I don't think she really wants to be a part of my life."

"Give her a chance."

"How many?"

Thinking about his own strained relations with his dad, Justin replied, "As many as it takes."

Just at that moment, a fire truck went by, its siren announcing its passage and Justin and Brian both froze for an instant, gripped by an irrational fear that seemed to rise up from their bellies to burn in their throats. Justin inched over to Brian and leaned against him, each reassured by the reality of the other, the feel of his body, solid and comforting. 

As Lindsay handed Gus to his daddy, she asked, "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"I can do it."

"I know you can." Lindz smiled. "This is a good thing you're doing."

"You hope." Brian held onto Gus' hand. "You ready, Sonny Boy? We're off to see the Wicked Witch." 

 

He pulled into the yard and climbed out. Unstrapped Gus from his car seat and picked him up. Held him in his arms for a moment, the baby's face soft against his own. Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, Brian grabbed his leather bear from the back seat, locked the car, and strode up to the front door of his mom's house. Hesitated a little, then pushed it open.

Joanie waited in the kitchen until Brian had entered the living room. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her clothes and came out. And stopped. Brian stood in the middle of the floor holding his son. His son. Brian's son. With eyes and lips just like his daddy's. Only the nose was different. Must come from the mother. Lindsay. Lindsay was Gus' mother. One of them. The other was the dark-haired woman, Melanie. Two mommies and a gay father. But all of that aside, the baby was beautiful and she longed to hold him. "Could I?"

Telling himself that it was his mother, that she had held him--presumably--when he was a baby, Brian gave her his son. Gus, never bothered by the number of strangers who handled him, looked up at her with Brian's bold, hazel eyes.

"He's beautiful." She smiled. "He looks just like you."

Ten minutes later Gus had completely won over his grandmother. Holding onto her knee and bending to pick up his Beh, the baby exercised his considerably charm without even being aware of it. Brian watched him, amazed as always that the baby was part of him, a part of him that would live on even after he was gone. He hoped.

"Lindsay and Melanie are having a birthday party for him next Saturday if you want to come."

Joanie glanced over at her son, remembering the news stories, the conversations she'd had with him. "Who's going to be there?"

He knew what she really wanted to know. "Justin's coming." As Gus squatted and dropped to his butt having lost his balance, Brian waited to see if the baby would cry. But he didn't. Instead he got to his knees and crawled over to his Da da. "You got a problem with that?" he asked, reaching for the bear and putting it within Gus' reach.

The picture before her, of her child and his son, alternated with the vision in her head, of her son and someone else's child in a less innocent pose. "We'll see." She held out her hands to Gus and the baby stood and stumbled back to her.

Although he knew the answer would hurt, he had to ask anyway. "Did he ever..." He paused and asked himself again if he really wanted to know. "Did he ever love me at all?"

Joanie was aware of Brian's eyes on her and she knew he would detect any attempt on her part to lie or soften the truth. "He used to sing 'Sonny Boy' to you when you were a baby." It was one of the few pleasant memories she had of Jack and Brian. When there are gray skies/ I don't mind those gray skies./ You make them blue, sonny boy.

Thinking on the picture his father had given him of the two of them when he was a baby, Brian asked, "What happened?"

And she replied, "Life happened." 

 

There was no one around in the cemetery. It wasn't exactly one of the more popular places to go. Even on a Sunday. So why he was there instead of home with Justin, he didn't know. Except that he had felt driven to come here. With Gus. Holding the baby in his arms, he studied the tombstone before him. How many times was he going to come here before he found the answers he needed? Gus started to stir and he said, "This is where your granddad is buried. Remember him? Remember your granddad? No?" He blinked. "No, I guess not. It's okay. He was a right old sonofabitch, if you want the truth. I still remember every time he ever hit me. Every single time. Even though it's been fourteen, fifteen years." Not intending to go down the same road for the hundredth time, he nevertheless couldn't help himself. "He never once told me that he loved me. And even though he was proud of my 'fancy job' he never told me he was proud of me." Gus laid his hand upon his daddy's face and Brian kissed his fingers. "I may not be there everyday and I may forget to tell you sometimes... but I do love you. Never forget that, that your Da da loves you, cause I do. And no matter what, I'm proud of you. Because you're my kid. The only one I've got in the whole world, and I'm the only Da da you've got. So we stick together, you and me, okay? And if Mel starts riding you about something, you call me and we'll take her on together cause she's tough. And sneaky. Deal?" He looked down at his father's grave. "It's too late for him and me. We're never gonna settle things. But me and you, we're just starting out. We can't fuck this up, you hear? Now, come on, let's get the fuck out of here." He wiped at his eyes. "And don't tell the Munchers I said 'fuck' cause your mom doesn't want you picking up my bad habits. Like who the hell doesn't say fuck?" 

 

Although he'd been disappointed that Brian hadn't invited him to go visit his mom, he understood why. Probably better to start slow and build up to him. Only, he didn't want anything to happen at Gus' party and he didn't know if it was the best plan in the world to have him meet her there. But Brian had said that he could only deal with one thing at a time and today he was dealing with her and Gus and that was all he could do for now. So he'd have to wait. Passing the time by sketching on the dining table and straining to hear Brian's key in the door. Brian had been gone two hours when he started to get worried. Any contact with his mother usually left the man distraught and there was no telling what he'd do. He'd been so good lately about the drugs and the alcohol, smoking a joint every now and then but nothing stronger than that, his designer drug box closed and gathering dust. But Joanie had the potential to send him searching for a quick fix, for a little instant oblivion. Finally, he heard Brian at the door and prepared himself for whatever. Turning, he watched as Brian locked the door and dropped his keys on the counter. Shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa. Crossing the floor to where Justin sat, he lowered his head and kissed him with a sigh. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

Justin studied his eyes. "You sure?"

Brian nodded. "It went all right. She loves Gus."

"Everybody loves Gus." Cupping Brian's face, he said, "I think you deserve a reward."

Brian smiled. "You're fixing dinner?"

Pushing him away, Justin stood and stripped off his shirt. Tossed it over Brian's head and giggled. Removing the shirt from his face, Brian chased Justin into the bedroom and tackled him. They fell upon the bed, laughing and kissing, family problems and dinner forgotten. 

 

Justin balanced a tray of nori rolls on Brian's belly and used his chopsticks to pick them up and carry them precariously to his mouth. "If you drop wasabi sauce on my dick, I'm going to spank you. And I don't mean in a good way," Brian threatened.

Justin carefully finished his dinner and set the tray and chopsticks on the bedside table. "I wonder if I'll ever have any kids."

"Maybe you and Daphne can have one. You've fucked her once already."

"Yeah, and she made me put on like three condoms. I couldn't feel shit."

Brian rubbed Justin's bottom. "Poor baby."

The teen laid his head on Brian's stomach and thought, then said, "Sometimes I feel kind of weird when we're with Gus."

"Why?"

"Because you're his dad and Melanie and Lindsay are his moms but I'm not anybody."

"Gus loves you."

"Yeah, but--"

"But nothing. Labels don't mean shit." He drew Justin up against his chest. "Besides, you're someone to me."

"Who?"

"A pain in my ass."

Justin straddled Brian's waist and held onto his shoulders. Dipped his head and kissed Brian softly, feeling his lover's hands on his back and hip. "I wish tomorrow would never come," he said, referring to the fact that it would be Monday and they'd be apart again for the entire week. "Come to the studio."

"If I have time."

"Make time." He kissed Brian again. "Please."

"I'll see. I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon and I don't know when it'll be over."

"Try," pleaded Justin.

"I'll try." 

Of course, Brian didn't show. Justin, begrudgingly, put away his pencils and began packing his knapsack. "Fuck," he grumbled and Bledsoe peeked around the partition dividing their studio.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied.

"So what are you doing for the memorial show?"

The Institute had decided that it would hold a show in memory of the victims of the terrorist attacks featuring artwork inspired by recent events. All students had been encouraged to participate.

Justin shrugged. So far nothing had come to him and the show opened in two weeks. If he didn't come up with something soon, he wouldn't be able to participate. Not exactly the auspicious beginning he had hoped for when he walked through the doors of the Institute for the first time. Besides that, his mom would take it as direct proof that he was spending too much time with Brian. His stuff packed away, he threw up his hand. "Later."

A couple hours later Rennie and Xavier showed up at the diner and hung out while he zipped around waiting on four tables at once. Like Daphne, the two were amazed at how popular he was and amused by the lengths to which various guys went to get his attention and his interest, but they could have told them he only had eyes for one man. Who dragged in around nine thirty long after they had gone back to the Institute. Still wearing his work clothes. Taking a seat at the counter, Brian waited for Justin to finish busing his table and to return from the back. Kissing briefly, they both smiled softly and Justin asked, "Meeting run long?"

"I had to take her out to dinner."

"Her?"

"Yeah. Margaret Raynor, Raynor Electronics. Ever since they came on board, she seems to think I'm her personal property. I told Ryder I'm not fucking her. I don't care how much the account is."

Justin brushed Brian's bangs from his forehead. "You tell her that you belong to me and I don't like to share." He kissed Brian again and ran his finger over the man's lips.

"Sorry I couldn't come this afternoon."

" 's okay," he replied, his tone unconvincing at best.

"Hey!" Deb popped Justin on the butt. "Your shift isn't over yet. Stop making kissy faces with Brian and get a move on."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And don't call me ma'am," she ordered.

Standing, Brian stretched his neck and dug his keys from his pocket. "Later."

As he watched him leave, Justin felt as if he'd never see him again. Which was stupid. He'd probably see him tomorrow. Only, it was how he felt and he couldn't shake the feeling all throughout the rest of his shift.

The moment he got home and climbed the stairs to his room, he whipped out his cellphone and called Brian.

"Yeah."

Justin felt guilty because it sounded as if Brian had been asleep. "Hey."

He cleared his throat. "Hey."

Even though he couldn't see him, he imagined Brian sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.

"What's up?"

"I just wanted to talk."

"About what?"

And he heard a noise, probably Brian reaching for his cigarettes. Sure enough, he heard him flip the top on the Zippo lighter. "How many of those have you had today?"

"First one."

"Liar."

"Then why ask?" Brian took a long draw and exhaled most of the smoke. "About what?" he asked again.

"I missed you."

"Justin..."

"I did."

"I know, but..."

"I feel like I never see you." He hadn't intended to say that, to make it sound so desperate, but it was how he felt.

"Baby..."

"Don't. Don't call me baby when I'm not there with you. I just want to be with you."

"What do you want me to do about it? It's your mom's rule and you said you'd deal with it."

"Well, I can't."

"Yes, you can." He stubbed out his cigarette, most of it untouched. "We both can."

"You don't miss me at all."

"I'm not gonna do this." Brian waited for Justin to argue and when he didn't, asked, "What's really wrong?"

Justin hesitated, then said, "I can't think of anything to do for the memorial show. And I was in the studio this afternoon and Bledsoe was talking about what he was gonna do and I went to see Rennie and Xavier and they were all excited about what they were doing and I couldn't think of anything. Except you and how much I wanted to see you."

Closing his eyes, Brian said, "Justin we can't do this. We can't--you have to concentrate on school."

"How can I when all I do is miss you? If I were with you I wouldn't miss you so much and..."

Brian could hear him sniffling and knew he was sitting in bed crying and he threw back the covers. "Give me fifteen minutes. Be outside." 

Unsurprised, Brian looked up to see Jennifer Taylor barreling through his office door. "Have a seat."

"I don't want to sit," she replied and took a deep breath and then sat down.

"Coffee?"

"No."

He put down his work and looked at her. She was pissed. Even more pissed than she'd been when she'd come and dropped off Justin's things that time. And offered him that check. Hell, he'd give her a check if she'd leave without reaming him. "So."

"So, you said that you'd back me on this and then I find out he's been spending nights over at your place--"

"He called me up, he was over there fuckin' crying, what the hell did you expect me to do?" he asked, his brows drawn, eyes dark.

"To keep your word," she said, voice quivering a little, the way it did when she was extremely angry.

"I gave my word because I thought this was the best thing for him, but I'm not so sure anymore."

"The best thing for him or for you?"

Brian looked away. "He can't concentrate on his work. Is that what you want?"

"He would, if you weren't involved," she pointed out.

"Well, I am. I am involved in this, I'm involved with him. And no matter how much you hate it, that's the way it is."

Neither denying nor confirming his accusations, she asked instead, "So what do you suggest?"

"Don't make such a big deal about him coming over. So he stays at my place a couple nights a week, what's the problem?"

"The problem is, he should be concentrating on his art."

"He does. What do you think we do? Fuck all the time?"

"I try not to think about it," she said, images of the two of them in intimate situations emerging unbidden.

"Well, maybe you should. Maybe you should ask him why he wants to be with me."

"Justin has his entire life ahead of him. I don't want anything getting in the way of that."

"I have no intention of--"

"It might not be your intention, but if it happens, if being with you keeps him from doing the things he should, then what?"

"I would never stand in his way."

"And you're capable of deciding that?"

"Who else?"

"And what happens when you get tired of him? When you move on to your next adventure?"

"Is that what you think this is?"

"You're thirty and he's eighteen. You have a child, responsibilities" And she thought, _This wouldn't be happening if Justin had gone to Dartmouth._ "Do you really think Justin's ready to settle down? If you were serious about him, you'd know that it's never going to work. But you're not, this is just play time for you. And one day you're going to hurt him."

"I would never do anything to hurt him. But I'm never going to convince you of that, so what's the point in talking about it?"

"You think he's ready for company dinners--"

"He's already been to a cocktail party with me."

"The corporate world is conservative. How far do you think you'll go with a teenaged lover?"

"I'm not worried about my career."

"Maybe you should be. Maybe you should think about the things you're giving up by being with him."

"I'm not giving up anything. I do my job, that's what I get paid for, that's what people see: my work."

"You can't be that naive." She knew how the business world was, knew how cruel it could be.

"I'm not ashamed of Justin. I'm not ashamed of Justin and me."

"You say that now but what if--"

"What if what?" He shook his head. "What if that plane that crashed outside of Pittsburgh would have crashed inside the city? It could have slammed into this building, killed all of us. There's no point in playing 'What if.' Justin and me, we'll either make it work or we won't. Just like everybody else." He stood and crossed to the door, opened it. "Now, if you don't mind, I have things to do."

Lips pressed in a thin line, Jennifer stood and marched out of his office. Giving into the anger, Brian slammed the door. 

"Justin, honey, I'm not angry with you." They were seated at her kitchen table.

He glanced up at her. Oh, yes, she was. "It's not Brian's fault."

"Honey--"

"He agreed with you."

"I know you think I'm being unfair--"

"I just want to be with him. I need him."

And she could hear the honesty in his voice, the raw need that he made no attempt to disguise and it frightened her that he believed his words, that the truth resided somewhere in his flesh and not just in his head. "That's what I'm afraid of, that you need him too much. Justin, you can't live your life for Brian. There's so much for you to do and see, I don't want you to shortchange yourself because of him."

"I wouldn't be in art school if it weren't for Brian. I wouldn't even be alive for that matter."

"I know you're grateful--"

"I love him." Justin paused to savor the words. They were so solid, so real that even if he were to forget all that he knew about the world, about himself, they'd be there before him to remind him of the only truth, the only reality that mattered. "I've always loved him and I'm not going to stop loving him. No matter what. And all the rules in the world won't change that." He thumbed the corner of his eye. "It hurts me, being apart from him."

Alarmed, she said, "This isn't healthy."

"Didn't you want to be with Dad? Isn't that why you got married in the first place? To be together?"

"You're not married."

He chuckled. "No. We can't be. But we can be together. And we will be. I don't care what you or Dad say. You can cut me off, stop paying for school, and I'll still be with him. I'll find a way."

"Justin, no one's talking about not paying for school--"

"Then let it go. I know what I'm doing." Jaw set, he put the issue to rest.

But Jennifer knew better, she had experience on her side, hard-won wisdom. "No, honey, you don't. You think you do, but there's so much you don't understand."

"Then I'll learn." He was willing to grant her that much and no more. "With Brian."

Having failed to bring him around to her way of thinking, she quizzed him about his intentions. "Are you moving in with him?"

"No." Justin watched her closely for any reaction: there was none. "I just want to be able to see him when I want. To be with him when I need to. That's all I'm saying."

"Fine. I can't stop you." She pushed away from the table.

"Mom--I wish you could understand."

Pausing as she turned, Jen replied, "I do understand, Justin. More than you know." 

"Can I come over?"

Brian cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and dumped pasta into a colander. "No."

"I know you're mad--"

"I'm not. I'm just tired." He drained the pasta and plated it. Poured on red sauce and shredded a little Romano cheese.

"Brian--"

"Justin... I'm exhausted."

"What about Friday?"

"What about it?"

"I was supposed to come over. For the weekend."

"And?"

"And do you still want me to?"

He started to say something sharp, then curbed the impulse. Said instead, "You know I do." He could visualize Justin smiling, heard it in his voice when he spoke.

" 'Night."

Brian ground some pepper over his pasta. " 'Night." Cut off the phone and stood holding it in his hand. 

Deb wasn't surprised at all to see Brian walk through the door. "He's gone," she said. "I think he went back to school. I heard him talking with Xavier."

"Good."

"So, what's wrong?" She put down her scissors. Christ, she hated clipping coupons but with a second mortgage on the house and a teenager to feed, every cent helped.

"Nothin'."

Brian perched on the arm of the couch and Deb smiled. She could count on her hands the number of times Brian had actually sat in a chair in her house. It was as if he was always poised for flight. "I've known you since you were fourteen. You were a piss poor liar then and you still are."

"He won't move in with me because he says we're not ready, and he's right. But then he calls me up and…" _And cries and pleads and reminds me why I love him, why I need him._

"He's a teenager. Don't take everything he says so seriously. Half the time he doesn't know what he wants, the other half he just wants to get laid. Stop running over here every time he throws a hissy fit. You know what a drama princess he is."

"He has his moments," he said with a chuckle. Justin definitely had his moments.

"Then stop indulging him. So he jerks off three or four times a week, it won't kill him."

Brian laughed. "Jesus, Deb."

"What? Seriously, it won't kill him to do without you until the weekend. He's just a little scared with what's been happening. Hell, we're all scared. And he's still finding his way at school. Give him another week and he'll be too busy to whine and moan."

Softly, he said, "Yeah."

Some of what he was feeling must have shown because she added, "It doesn't mean he'll love you any less. Or need you any less than he does now. It just means he won't hold on quite so tight."

Not wanting to dissect his emotions right then and there, he said, "I should go," and made for the door.

"Brian." He stopped. "Honey, he loves you."

"I know."

"So what's wrong?" Deb watched him struggle with the impulse to unburden himself.

"Nothing." Pause. "I don't know." Another pause. "His mom came to see me."

"Yeah, well..." She'd known Jennifer would head straight to him when she found out about Justin's sleepovers.

"She thinks I'm just playing with him. She said that if I were really serious I'd realize he's not ready to settle down."

Deb smirked. "I don't think you're ready to settle down."

"She said I have responsibilities."

"You do."

He hung his head, unable to look her in the eye. "We're at two different places in our lives... " Swallowed. "And we're never gonna get those twelve years back."

"No. You won't. But maybe they won't matter so much."

Looking up, he asked, "When? When I'm fifty and he's thirty-eight? When he's fifty and I'm sixty-two?" The implications angered him. "Shit!"

Standing, she neared him and peered up at him. "So maybe he's not the only one who's afraid."

"I want to be with him all the fuckin' time because I don't know how long this is gonna last." Deb stared at him, not believing that he'd just confessed what he had. "I keep turning around and he's not there and I'm never sure if he's coming back and I--I don't want to care because--" He stopped abruptly, afraid of saying what he felt, even to Deb.

"Because it hurts."

"I just don't know what I'm doing. I'm just--" God, he did not want to have this conversation.

She laid a hand upon his sleeve, rubbed his arm through his shirt. "You have to have faith, kiddo. That things are gonna work out."

Looking up at her, he smiled faintly. "I've never had faith in anything or anyone in my life... that didn't eventually let me down." He paused and added, "Including myself." 

Turning, he saw Justin at the door of the studio and waved him in. His new friend pushed through with a sad look on his face. "What's up, Joostan?" It was a joke of Xavier's to call him that after Justin Wilson ever since he found out that Justin cooked. "The Gay Boy Chef," he added as Justin knew he would.

"Fuck you."

"Sorry. You're cute but you're not that cute." Justin laughed as Xavier had intended. "Man, you look like shit."

"Feel like it too."

"You and Brian ain't gettin' it on?" He put down his work, turned his attention to Justin.

"My mom went to his office again and bitched at him so..."

"No more weekday nookie."

"I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like I'm there every day. It's just that--sometimes I need him, I need to be with him so badly it hurts. Sometimes I need to spend the night with him, I need to fall asleep next to him. I don't know why, I just do. And she thinks I can just store it up until the weekend--well, I can't." Justin found a chair and sat in it backwards.

"So what does he want?"

"He's trying to please the both of us and it's not working and I know we're driving him crazy."

"He doesn't seem like the type to take a lot of shit."

"He's not." Justin laughed. "You should have heard the way he used to tear into me. About anything, everything."

"Must have been tight."

"Sometimes."

Xavier looked as if he wanted to ask a question but didn't know how and then he just came out with it. "So when did you know? That you were in love with him?"

"From the very beginning." A smile spread across Justin's face. "That first night we spent together was incredible. I had never felt anything like it in my life. I knew right then that I loved him."

"But it could have just been really good sex. How did you know?"

"I just did. Even when everyone said I was crazy, that Brian didn't do boyfriends, even when he pushed me away and told me it didn't mean anything, that he didn't believe in love, I still knew that it did. There was something about the way that he touched me, the way that he talked to me sometimes, it made me realize that this was different, that it wasn't just sex, it was something else for him, something that mattered to him, and I couldn't give up on us." He smiled. "And I didn't."

Shaking his head, Xavier asked, "But wasn't it hard, not being sure if he even felt anything for you?"

"Sometimes he'd say or do something and it would hurt so bad, I didn't think I'd make it, and I wanted to tell him to fuck off, that I didn't need him, but I couldn't." Justin's eyes darkened. "One time he was really mean to me and I did something totally shitty to him. I wanted to hurt him, I wanted him to feel the way he made me feel sometimes."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah," he replied softly. "It hurt him all right. I could see it in his eyes." He remembered the way Brian had looked at him in the diner and at the loft the day after the King of Babylon contest. "And I never wanted to make him feel like that again. I never wanted to hurt him again. I shouldn't have done it."

"But he's done the same thing to you."

"He's had a really hard life. The things he's been through... It's not an excuse but I understand. And he does try. Sometimes," he added. "Even before we got together, he treated me differently from the other guys he slept with, and I knew it. He let me into his life; even if he never really meant to, he did."

"I can't imagine loving someone like that, to put up with that kind of shit."

"It's kind of scary. Not knowing what you'd do, how far you'd go, not being sure if you even have limits."

"Do you?" Xavier toyed with a block of wood.

"I can't think of anything I wouldn't do for him," he answered and he remembered the hard hour he'd spent in Drew's office and he thought, _No. There's nothing I wouldn't do._

"So what do you have planned?"

"For what?"

"For your anniversary? Didn't you say that you met--"

"Fuck! I totally forgot."

"So what you gone do, J?"

"I wish we could go away, even if it was just for one night."

"Go to one of those swank hotels downtown," Xavier suggested.

"Yeah, but we've been to one of the best resorts in the Caribbean."

"La dee fuckin' da. I guess you--"

"I got it!"

"What?"

"You'll see."

"No, Brian'll see. I'll just hear about it." He put down the block.

Justin's ears perked up at the choice of words. "You don't mind, do you?"

"What?"

"That I talk about me and Brian?"

Xavier cocked his head. Smiled. Usually you couldn't tell that Justin had been affected by the bashing except for moments like this, when he wasn't sure about people or how they'd react to him. "It's cool."

"I just.. I feel like I can talk to you. You know?"

"No problem, J." He bobbed his head. "No problem at all. Just bring me some birthday cake." 

Before they even entered the yard, the two men could hear Lindsay yelling something to Mel. Brian paused and rubbed his face.

"Okay," said Justin, "promise you'll be good. No arguing with Mel, no yelling, no smoking, no cursing--"

"Am I allowed to have a good time?" asked Brian, rolling his eyes.

"As long as it doesn't involve any of the above."

Luckily, Lindsay had been reading all the best baby books and they all suggested that the first birthday party be restricted to family and close friends since the baby wouldn't really remember any of it and would be overwhelmed by strange people. Basically, the party was for the parents, the kid wouldn't care. Therefore, other than the parents and their partners, the only guests were the guys and Deb and Vic. Joanie hadn't put in an appearance yet so Brian could breathe freely for a while but he fully expected her at any moment.

As soon as Gus saw his daddy he began calling out to him and trying to get away from Lindsay. She released him and he stiff-legged it over to Brian. He was still an unsteady walker at best but he did manage to make it all the way over to the door where Brian caught him up in his arms. "Hey, Sonny Boy."

"Da da da da," Gus said in his breathless baby voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, " groaned Mel.

Brian grinned and said, "Look, Gus, Justin. Can you say, 'Justin?' "

The baby laughed and so did the teen. "Beh."

Carrying Gus over to where his bear was, Brian lowered the baby to the floor. Justin put their gifts with the others and made his way to the buffet table after getting kisses from both Lindsay and Mel. "I've told him to be on his best behavior," he informed them.

"Yipee," Mel responded. "He'll only be half the asshole he usually is."

In between eating off Justin's plate, Brian took pictures of the birthday boy and the other guests. Gus giggled as his Da da waved at him and took his picture. Brian couldn't believe how excited the baby was. Of course, with all the noise and bright colors, he was surprised Gus didn't just spontaneously combust. How much Winnie-the-Pooh could one kid stand? Any moment now, he expected Gus to shut down. But, meanwhile, the baby kept going full blast. Jesus, he didn't remember ever having that much energy—unless it was chemically induced.

From the buffet Justin laughed. Although he didn't want to admit it, Brian was having a ball at the birthday party and Gus, Gus was in seventh heaven. There was no doubt in the teenager's mind that the baby knew who his Da da was and loved him more than anything. The way his face lit up when Brian smiled at him... Of course, Justin's face lit up too when Brian smiled at him. He shook his head, amazed. A year ago who would have ever thought that he and Brian would end up at Gus' first birthday party? Together? He couldn't wait until the party was over. Brian caught his eye and snapped a picture of him, then turned back to the adults who were putting on an impromptu fashion show. In addition to Brian's capturing everything on film, Mel was videotaping the party as well and they worked around each other trying to get the best shots.

Gus watched from the floor, amazed by their antics. Em picked him up and helped him do a supermodel walk. In his bare feet. Lindz said that was one way you could tell he was Brian's kid: they both hated wearing shoes. "And here we have Gus, the hottest male model this year, showing off the latest in fashionable baby wear."

"Wait," protested Michael, "I thought you said I was the hottest male model this year?"

"Darling, you're fabulous but I lied."

"My career is over." Michael placed a limp wrist over his forehead. "What'll I do?"

Ted piped up. "Become an actor. You can walk. That's half of it. Now, you just have to learn to read."

Taking a break from documenting the joyous occasion, Brian slipped away and sat in the kitchen. Lindsay saw him and followed. "Hey, Da da."

"Hey, Ma ma." He grinned.

"You think she's coming?" He'd told Lindz about inviting his mom.

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I don't know if I even want her to show up. Jesus."

"I think it's great that you're trying, both of you." She tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, you don't get to wimp out on the party. That's what being a parent means."

He stood. "Christ, I need a cigarette."

Ten minutes later, he needed an aspirin too. Emmett had decided to sing and Gus was doing his best to keep up. Both were screeching at the top of their lungs and Brian didn't know who he wanted to shut up more: Gus cause he couldn't understand what he was saying or Em cause he could. Just then, Joanie showed up. Lindsay let her in and introduced her to everyone--except Deb and Justin, because Joanie knew Deb and Lindsay figured Brian would introduce Justin.

Taking a deep breath, Brian signaled to Justin and accompanied the teen to where his mother stood. "Joanie Kinney, Justin Taylor; Justin, Joanie."

Justin didn't know whether to offer to shake hands or what; he just stood and waited for her to make the first move. Somehow, miraculously, everyone had migrated to the dining room leaving the three of them alone in the living room. Not that they couldn't hear everything that was being said.

"I understand you're attending the Institute of Fine Arts," she said finally.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, grateful for such an innocuous opening.

"You must be very talented."

"I love art."

"What do your parents think?"

"About IFA?"

"About Brian."

"My mom's sorta okay with it sometimes."

"And your father?"

"He hates Brian." There was no way to soften that at all.

Joanie glanced at her son. "Well, his own father hated him, why should yours be any different?"

Brian felt like someone had thrown ice cold water over him. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something, but he didn't. He just turned and left the room. Climbed the stairs to the second level, Justin behind him.

Although they were pretending not to have heard anything, Deb just couldn't keep quiet. Marching into the living room, she lit into Joanie. "You've got some nerve."

"He's having an affair with an eighteen-year old boy who looks like he's fifteen."

"He's lucky he's in a relationship at all. He's lucky to be alive."

"Jack would never have--"

"That he didn't kill himself!"

Michael came towards them. "Ma--"

"Jack Kinney was a piece of work but you let it happen. You stood by and let him beat the shit out of your kid and you never did a fuckin' thing!" Turned her head, "Sorry," she said to Lindz and Mel.

"No," replied Lindsay coolly, "don't apologize."

"Justin is the best thing to ever happen to Brian besides Gus. I've never seen him so happy. And he tried to do something right, inviting you here today when he could have said, 'Fuck it.' So you keep your goddamn opinions to yourself."

Silence blanketed the room. Finally, Joanie said to no one in particular, "I'm sorry."

Stepping out from behind Deb, Michael suggested, "Maybe you should tell that to Brian." 

 

Who sat on the bed in the guest room with Justin next to him. The teen stroked his hair. It usually calmed Brian a little, took a lot of the edge off, which was what he needed most. "It's okay. I'm here."

"Just when I think maybe, maybe this time I won't get kicked in the head..." He grimaced and willed himself not to care, but he didn't quite succeed.

"It's hard for people to change," said Justin. "Look at you. It took a whole year almost for you to admit that you loved me. Give her time. She wants to do better; she came today, it's a start. You just have to be patient."

Brian gave a faint smile. Patience was not one of his virtues. He wasn't actually convinced that he had any although Justin assured him he did. "How'd you get to be so smart?"

"I've got a really trying lover." He smiled and laughed as Brian grabbed him and nuzzled his neck. Their lips met and they kissed, more for comfort than from passion--at first. Growing aroused, they lay back on the bed, heedless of the fact that the door to the room was open. Brian unzipped Justin's jeans and slipped his hand inside. "Oh, yeah..." Justin whispered.

As Joanie neared the room, she heard sounds. Not sure if they were in there talking, she glanced inside. And saw them on the bed. Stepping back, she closed her eyes and paused, then fled downstairs, grabbed her purse, and left.

Deb watched her leave in amazement. "What in the hell happened to her?"

Looking up, Michael asked, "I wonder where they are?"

"And what they're doing," Vic clarified. Emmett covered his mouth to stifle a giggle.

Deciding it was a mystery they'd eventually get an answer to, everyone continued with the party, hoping the two men would return soon so they could have cake and open a few of Gus' presents before the party came to an end. Within ten minutes the missing couple returned, goofy smiles plastered on their faces.

"Oh, shit, you didn't," commented Michael.

"Didn't what?" asked Brian. "Where's Joanie?"

"She came flying down the stairs like the Terminator was after her," he replied.

Brian and Justin exchanged looks. "Oh, hell," said Brian.

"What the fuck were you doing?"

"We were just fooling around."

"With your clothes on or off?"

"Yes."

Mel neared them. "Not on the guest bed?"

Brian smirked. "We didn't get anything on it."

She covered her eyes. "I do not want details."

He picked a potato chip from her plate and she looked both astounded and annoyed. "I washed my hands." As she returned to Lindsay's side, Brian said, "I guess I should go over there after this and talk to her," referring to his mother.

"Do it next week," Justin suggested. "We've got plans."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

The Boy Wonder smiled. "Yeah."

Finally, the moment arrived that everyone had been waiting for since the party began. With Mel and Brian recording his every action, Gus stuffed his face full of Winnie-the-Pooh birthday cake and, like every one-year old before him, made a complete mess of it. But no one minded. In fact, the adults encouraged him and Michael, Emmett, and Ted joined him in smearing cake all over their faces too.

Then came the presents. Lindsay let Gus tear open a couple of his presents, saving the rest for later. Of course, he was more interested in the wrapping paper and bright bows than anything inside. But when he got to the ride-on fire engine Brian and Justin had given him, his eyes seemed to lock on it so she put him on the back of the toy and the teen pushed him around while the baby shrieked with joy.

"You read the list," she said to Brian.

"I read the list."

A half hour later, it was obvious that the guest of honor had hit the wall. Plopping down between Mel's feet, he began to nod off, prompting her to carry him upstairs. With the birthday boy tucked away, the adults helped Lindz clean up and gradually trickled home. Brian and Justin were the last to leave. Lindsay pecked them both on the cheek.

"You did good, Da da." Then added, "Justin too."

"Thanks."

"Don't let her get to you," she said, referring to his mom.

"I won't."

Justin assured her, "Don't worry. I'll keep him occupied for a while."

Lindsay shook her head, a twinkle in her eye. "I just bet you will."

As they walked to the Jeep Brian asked, "What plans?"

Justin removed a blindfold from his pocket. "Put this on."

"How can I drive with this on?"

"I'll drive." When Brian hesitated, Justin said, "I'm a good driver."

He slipped on the blindfold. "Two words: company car."

All during the drive Brian kept asking Justin questions which the teen refused to answer until the man decided to just shut up and wait until they got wherever they were going. It took an hour--after a brief stop at home during which Brian fidgeted until the teenager returned with a overnight bag--but they finally arrived at their destination. Justin told Brian to wait and hopped out. Returned and drove a little ways then stopped again. This time after he got out, he opened Brian's door and led the man from the car to the front door of a building. Opened it and nudged Brian inside. Closed the door. "Okay," he said, "you can take it off now."

Brian did so and looked around in amazement. They were in a little two-room cottage filled with fresh flowers. There was a bottle of champagne on ice and two flutes next to the king-sized bed. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Happy Anniversary," Justin replied.

"Anniversary?" Brian frowned then he smiled, then he looked contrite. "I forgot. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He reached into his backpack and handed Brian a present. "For you. For your birthday too. We never really celebrated it."

Tearing open the paper, Brian couldn't stop smiling. When he had completely unwrapped it, he paused. "Robert Mapplethorpe: Pictures. Thanks, baby."

Justin grinned. "I predict it'll become one of your favorite books." He drew Brian's head down and kissed him. "I love you." Brian pulled away. "Brian...?"

"I'm sorry," he said, sniffling a little.

"What is it?"

Brian didn't say anything for a few moments and then he said softly, "I love you."

"So what's wrong?"

"I should tell you more often." He looked at Justin, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. "I know I should."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't. We don't have time to fuck around. You never know what's gonna happen. One minute you're out walking your dog and the next you're dead," he said, referring to the co-pilot of the plane that crashed into the Pentagon. There'd been a story about him in The Advocate along with articles about a businessman from San Francisco who was on the flight that crashed outside of Pittsburgh and who may have fought with the hijackers, a couple traveling with their three-year old adopted son, a man who worked for National Geographic, and a British citizen in America on business. All gay, all gone. "Anything could happen." A tear slipped from beneath his lid, streaked his cheek.

"So we don't waste any time." He wiped Brian's face. "Especially being sad or regretting anything." Giving Brian another kiss, he moved into his arms and said, "I know that you love me. Even when you don't say it. It's the one sure thing in my life."

Brian held him tightly, afraid to let go, afraid that if he did the teen would just disappear, leaving him alone. 

 

That night they spent in bed sipping champagne; planning the itinerary for their grand tour of Europe in the summer; leafing through Brian's birthday/anniversary present; and making love slowly, sweetly, tenderly. Justin didn't think he'd ever heard Brian say he loved him as many times in all the months they'd been together as he did that night. Kissing the soft flesh along his neck and whispering, "I love you," in the hollow of his throat; teasing his nipples, lips forming the words, "I love you" around the tips; "I love you" lost among the folds of his belly button, lingering along the length of his cock, slipping back between his cheeks. Brian painted his shoulders, his spine, and buttocks with "I love you;" dipping his tongue inside his hole to coat the inner surface with the three, short words. By the time the man reached his toes and individually anointed each of them, Justin was completely immersed in, yet buoyed by, each and every utterance and he knew that no matter what happened he would carry the words with him, in his flesh, for the rest of his life.

Brian sank down into him and he sighed and opened his lips to be kissed, to be told without words how much he was loved. And Brian did. With each kiss, each thrust, each breath, each drop of sweat, he professed his love and devotion. Gratefully did Justin receive it, hands and hips, belly and thighs saying what his lips could only echo in pale imitation, "I love you. I need you. I want you."

Feeling Justin tighten around him, Brian braced himself for the teenager's orgasm. Justin clenched his teeth and grunted, his cock sliding against Brian's belly. It erupted, cum overflowing the tip to drip down upon both their skins. His lover having come, Brian redoubled his efforts and thrust hard into the teen. Burying his face in the space between Justin's head and shoulder, Brian bit down gently upon the youth's flesh and cried out as he climaxed.

After they had come, the pair remained joined for a while, unwilling to part; and when, at last, they did part, they wrapped arms and legs about one another and stayed like that for the longest time, hearts pounding yet continually slowing to a regular, steady beat. Justin slid his hand along Brian's cheek and felt his lover's lips against his palm. 

 

The next morning they awoke and made love again, then showered, slipped on their robes, and waited for breakfast to arrive. Feasting on Belgian waffles with strawberries and cream, chicken and garlic sausage, and scrambled eggs served over asparagus spears, the two enjoyed a long, leisurely repast. Afterwards they dressed and went for a long walk. "I can't believe I'm out walking in the country," Brian grumbled and Justin bumped him with his shoulder.

"You know you like it." Brian refused to look at him. "Go on. Say it. Say you like it."

"It's... peaceful," the man confessed, but didn't say if that was a good or bad thing.

Gazing at their surroundings, at the green and golden foliage and the sudden eruptions of colorful wildflowers, catching glimpses of squirrels scampering around and birds flitting through the branches overhead, hearing an occasional snatch of a song... Justin wondered what it would be like to live in the country, to wake up every day and look out of your window at this. To have a studio that overlooked a lake maybe or a river or faced the mountains. He laughed. What in the hell would Brian do out in the country? Grow vegetables?

"What?"

"Nothing. I was just imagining you down on your knees pulling weeds from your garden."

Brian looked shocked. "My what?"

"Your garden." He eased the man back against a tree and studied him as he was wont to do. "All sweaty and dirty. Tanned from having your shirt off." Brian smiled and Justin got up on his tiptoes and kissed him. "And when it was time to come inside, you'd strip and I'd hose you down until you were nice and clean..." His next thoughts were lost in a kiss and a sigh. Then Brian drew away slightly and grinned.

"Maybe I'd pull you down in the dirt with me instead. Forget about being clean. Just roll around in the mud."

"Mmmm," said Justin in agreement and they kissed again, him pressing hard against Brian. The tree shook and bits of leaves fell into their hair.

Returning to the cottage, they packed their things and checked out, and headed back to Pittsburgh--Brian driving this time.

That night, after having dinner with the guys at Deb's place, they lounged around the loft just enjoying one another's proximity. Justin sketched, scribbling ideas for the memorial show although nothing really came to him; and Brian studied the Mapplethorpe photos, wondering if he'd ever produce anything as startlingly focused and affective. He'd taken the book with him to Deb's and shown the guys. Emmett had sworn he used to know one of the models. Looking at the photos, at the various acts portrayed, most of which he'd participated in at one time or the other, Brian marveled that in light of such complicated pleasures, he was able to find fulfillment in the simple act of sitting in his apartment. With Justin at the table. Maybe this was what Lindz had meant when she talked about people needing to feel loved, to feel that they belonged to something other than themselves. Even when things appeared their worst, when everything seemed to spiral out of control, he could look at Justin and feel safe, steady, centered. Closing his book, he placed it on the coffee table and rose. Justin's head shifted slightly in response to his movement. Without saying a word, they retired. To dream of life.

_Running along the beach in the Bahamas and slipping into the water._

_Gus smearing his face with cake as they cheered him on._

_Fixing dinner together while Gus watched from his seat on top of the dining table._

_Buried deep in the covers of their bed, making love in the early morning light._

_Laying on the sofa, asleep, as the rain fell in sheets outside._

_Daphne showing them her college library at Princeton._

_The two of them surrounded by a hundred men at Babylon, dancing up a sweat._

_Brian's face looking down at Justin's as the teen lay in a hospital bed._

All of these moments and more made up a life, their life. Entwined about them, binding them together tighter than the strongest steel. And this life, this love, would not melt under heat or buckle under pressure or crack or collapse or fall apart. 

He stood outside of the house for the longest time, sure that she was inside watching him or, at least, aware of his presence. Finally, he opened the front door and went in to find her sitting in the living room. Waiting.

"Brian--" she began but he cut her off.

"I just need to know, one way or the other. You don't have to be part of my life. We can go back to the way things were. There's no rule that says families have to be close. Only, you tell me how it's gonna be because I don't intend to keep getting kicked in the ass. I'm not ashamed of us, of me and Justin. And he's not a child, he's a man. He's young, I know that. And he's always gonna be younger than me. We're never going to be the same age, never. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't mean shit. What matters is that I love him and he loves me. He loves me more than anything in this world and I--" Hesitating for a moment, Brian continued, "I can depend on him. I trust him. I would trust him with my life." He stopped, feeling raw and exposed and more vulnerable than he'd ever felt with her. When she didn't respond right away, he said, "So you think about it and you let me know," and started to go.

"Brian..." Joanie paused. So did he. "I'm sorry." He waited. "I wish I could tell you that I understood. But I don't. I wish I could tell you that I accepted your life. But I can't."

He nodded his head sadly and swallowed. "Do you have Lindsay's number?"

"Yes." He had given it to her on the eve of Gus' party.

"Call her sometimes. He's still your grandson." Brian reached for the doorknob and held it in his grip for a few seconds before walking away from his mother's home for what would probably be the last time. 

 

The images emerged from the paper almost effortlessly now. After struggling the week before, he'd finally realized what he wanted to do for the memorial. Working frantically--a controlled frenzy--he endeavored to make up for lost time. Even Bledsoe was impressed, and nothing impressed Bledsoe--except Bledsoe. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights he'd stumbled home late to Deb's place and fell asleep after a brief, sleepy call to Brian. Tonight looked no different. He even thought that he might have to forgo going over to Brian's Friday night too. Working on the picture's central figures, he was concentrating so hard that he failed to hear the knock on the door the first time. Then it came again and he looked up thinking he'd see Xavier or Rennie coming to see if he wanted to make a pizza run.

It was Brian.

Rising from his stool and flipping the top on his sketch, he went to open the door. "Hey," he said surprised and pleased.

"This isn't bad," Brian said, looking around. "Add some tacky wallpaper and cheap carpeting and this would feel almost like home." Justin elbowed him in the side before sliding into his arms.

"What are you doing here?" he asked after they kissed.

"You invited me, remember?"

"That was last week."

Brian pulled away. "The invitation's been revoked?" He peeped around the corner but saw little--Bledsoe kept his work covered under canvas when he wasn't there.

Not buying an innocent visit for a moment, Justin asked, "You wanna go eat?"

Shrugging, the man let the teenager lead him from the studio in search of dinner and a place to talk.

They ended up at a tiny Lebanese restaurant squeezed between two larger buildings, literally a hole in the wall. Over hummus and bread stuffed with cheese and spinach, the couple caught one another up on the happenings of the week. Brian was quiet as he listened to the teen's excited account of going into the studio desperate for an idea and having his entire piece flow from the end of his chalk like magic. Deceptive magic because he worked hard at first to nail down the composition of the figures and then even harder to capture just the right expressions on their faces.

"When can I see it?" Brian asked.

"When it's done." He didn't need to find out if Brian were coming Sunday.

"I liked watching you work," the man said softly, tearing off a piece of bread.

Justin suddenly felt guilty. "Brian... What is it?"

He smiled. "Nothing."

"What is it?"

Taking Justin's hand in his for a moment, Brian released it and sat back in his chair. "So what are Xavier and Rennie doing?"

"Fuck Xavier and fuck Rennie."

"I don't think Xavier would like that. Rennie, I don't know."

Justin didn't crack a smile.

"I saw my mom today." He ran his finger along the outside rim of his water glass. "I won't be going back," he said simply and Justin understood.

"I'm sorry."

Brian's eyes fixed on a point in the middle of the table. "She... she... wasn't ready to deal with us." He blinked and looked up. "That's okay. You know?"

Before Justin could say anything, the waiter returned with their identical entrees. Wanting to continue their conversation, Justin nevertheless realized that Brian didn't so he kept his comments to himself and enjoyed his mixed grill of chicken, beef, and lamb. Brian picked at his order and, in the end, pushed it away half-eaten.

The bill paid, they stood outside while Justin tried to decide what to do. It was imperative that he work on his piece and yet he really wanted to be with Brian because it was obvious that the man needed him and didn't want to be alone tonight no matter how cavalier he tried to appear. But just the teen was about to offer to go home with him, Brian said, "I guess I should get you back to the studio," and he didn't disagree. Maybe the best thing for the ad exec was to be by himself.

At the front of the Institute, Justin leaned over and kissed him and climbed down out of the Jeep. "See you tomorrow?"

"I'll meet you at the diner."

Still Justin couldn't shake the feeling that he should have gone with him. It nagged him the rest of the time he was in the studio. Around ten he packed away his stuff and caught the bus back to the house. Tossed his backpack in the corner and dropped onto the bed. Opened his cellphone and dialed Brian's number. No answer. He tried his cell but it was turned off. _Don't panic, just keep calm. He just doesn't want to talk to anyone. It doesn't mean anything. He's probably knocked out. Probably had a couple shots of Jim Beam and fallen asleep._ But as much as he wanted to believe that, Justin worried that it might be something else. What, he didn't know. Just then, there was a knock at his door. "Come in." Leave it to Deb to be up and about and wanting to talk.

Brian pushed through the doorway.

"What are you--" Justin asked as he stood and Brian hugged him, cutting off his words and squeezing him so tightly. The older man shook as he cried silently and Justin stroked his hair and just held him, letting him take comfort from his embrace. Eventually they crawled into the bed, the twin bed filled to overflowing. But they lay so closely entwined that there wasn't a space between them. Head against his lover's back, Justin whispered, "I love you," and Brian laced his fingers with his and closed his eyes, finally at peace. 

The whole gang, including Jennifer Taylor and Molly, showed up for the memorial show and instantly adopted Justin's two new friends. Rennie fell in love with Gus and declared that she'd be willing to wait until he had grown up if he looked like Brian and was straight, despite the seventeen year difference in their ages. Both Brian and Justin cornered Em and quizzed him about Xavier. "So?" asked Brian.

"Got me," the men's apparel professional professed and he gave Xavier the once-over once more. "Wish I could get him. He's a hottie."

After the Dean of the school gave a short speech about the events of the past few weeks and the responsibility of the artist to interact with life, to respond to the times around him, the head of the Art Department led visitors into the gallery space.

Brian noticed that Justin hung back a little. "You nervous?"

"I want you to like it."

"I will," he said and gave the teen a peck on the lips.

Deb passed them. "Jeez, don't you two ever quit?"

Grinning, Brian grabbed her and kissed her as well. "There. Satisfied?"

Slowly they made their way through the exhibit until they came to Justin's piece. Most of the other works in the show dealt with the horror of the attacks, the fear engendered by them, the sense of helplessness, the anger, the sadness, but Justin had chosen something different as his theme. The placard next to his sketch said simply, "Life. 2001." And that's what he showed. People in a park. A straight couple on a bench. A group of kids on roller blades. Two women with their arms around one another's waist. Scattered figures across the landscape, all looking at an event that happened just outside of the frame of the picture. And dominating the middle of the composition, a man and child, the toddler seated on his father's shoulders, both of their faces hidden from view, but the strength in the man's arms visible and the love between the two undeniable.

Jennifer slipped her arm through Justin's, holding on to Molly's hand as well. Michael moved closer to Deb and Vic. Even Emmett and Ted found themselves standing together, Em's hand on Ted's shoulder. Lindsay slipped her hand in Mel's and squeezed it. Looking down, she watched as Gus eased from her grasp and clung to his Da da's leg. Brian, eyes still on the picture, reached down and picked his son up, held him in his arms. This was all that mattered. Here was his family. Justin, standing just in front of him, turned and smiled. Here was his life.


	12. Butterflyz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin have fun with a videocamera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday story for Colleen.

_You give me butterfly_  
Got me flyin' so high in the sky   
I can't control the butterfly… 

"I didn't know I moaned that much," Justin commented, his cheeks slightly red, watching himself on the videotape.

"That's what turns me on the most."

"Yeah?" Embarrassment turned to pride.

Brian licked his lips. "I still remember the night after you got your nipple ring…. the way you moaned when we fucked…. I swear my dick got harder every time I heard you," he confessed. On the screen they were kissing on the sofa as Brian stroked his little boy's cock through his trousers, Justin moaning into his mouth.

Justin said, "I can't believe we did that," meaning taping themselves having sex.

In the video, Brian shifted and the television came into view over his shoulder. On it, Brian and Justin writhed about on the bed having sex. Watching the two sets of lovers, Brian said, "I can; I just can't believe we did it twice." 

Justin parted from Brian and whispered almost breathlessly, "Rewind it."

Taking his hand from inside the teen's briefs where it had been kneading, stroking, and pumping his eager cock, Brian stopped the tape and hit the rewind button. As the tape whirred, he took the opportunity to pull his pants and underwear all the way off; they'd been pushed down around his knees for the past fifteen minutes.

Justin, meanwhile, willed his dick to soften, wanting to feel Brian's hands and mouth on him for a time to come. He didn't want to blow yet. Not yet. 

Brian knelt behind Justin and kissed the smooth column of his neck. "You taste good," he said and the youth smiled and unbuttoned his jeans. But Brian rebuttoned them. "Slowly," he said. "I want this to last a long, long time." He cupped Justin's cock through his pants and stroked him, kissing his neck and shoulders. Then, releasing him, Brian slipped his hand up under the boy's tee shirt and rolled his nipples between his fingers. Justin sighed as Brian played with the sensitive tips, gasped when he tugged on the nipple ring. 

"What does that feel like?" Brian asked watching himself pull the tit ring.

"Incredible. Sometimes I can feel it all through my cock." He reached inside his briefs and drew out his dick which had lost some of its rigidity. Rubbed his fingers over the tip. "You think I should get it pierced too?"

"A Prince Albert?" Justin nodded. "I've never been fucked by a guy with one of those. I wonder how it feels." His eyes were fixed on Justin's cock head.

"I could get one and we could find out."

"I think," Brian said, lowering his head, "I like your dick just the way it is," and delicate as a honeybee sipping necter from a flower, he flicked his tongue over the tip. 

He saw the tip of Justin's tongue peek from between his lips as his lover's head bobbed over his groin on the television. Next to him, Justin's mouth was parted slightly. He could see the outline of the teen's cock beneath the sweats he wore and was painfully aware of his own erection pressing against the confines of jeans. Watching himself go down on Justin, he nearly laughed, imagining people turning on their television sets and watching him and Justin fucking. He wondered if they'd get turned on, if straight couples would get off on that, seeing Justin ride his cock. With a groan of relief, he unzipped his jeans and freed his hard-on. He glanced over at Justin, his dick had gotten even stiffer, tenting the front of his pants.

Like eating a strawberry, Brian opened his lips around the head of Justin's cock and sucked on it, savoring the sweet taste. Through partially closed eyes, Justin watched Brian's hand slide up and down his cock and heard the other Justin gasp as the man's fingertip played inside his hole, opening up his cock. Brian pulled his finger away and a line of precum stretched from the pad to the tip of Justin's dick.

_You were made for me…_

"Stroke it," Brian told his lover and the boy took over pulling on his cock while Brian parted his cheeks, wet a finger, and began fingering his other hole. Periodically spitting on his fingers, he massaged and probed Justin's ass until the teen was moaning like crazy and begging his lover to fill him up. Finally, Brian pressed two fingers against the relaxed opening and pushed inside, burying them both to the hilt. Justin's mouth fell open and he released his dick. It sprang from his grip and slapped against his belly, leaving precum on his skin. 

Lifting his head from between Justin's thighs, Brian glanced up at him, the teen's face enrapt as he gazed at the video of Brian finger fucking his hole. Taking a cue from his on-screen persona, he lifted Justin's leg over his shoulder and brushed his fingertip over his puckered lips. Justin gasped and closed his eyes although he could still hear the moaning from the tape interwoven with the sounds he was now making. As Brian eased his index finger up inside Justin, he continued to suck his cock, filling his mouth with Justin's hard flesh. Shuddering, Justin began begging Brian to fuck him, fuck him, wanting it so badly he could barely speak, the words wrapped around his cock, rubbing against the opening of his hole, clenching his belly, and pinching his tits. 

Justin lay supine on the bed, legs spread in a V as Brian lowered himself onto him, the head of his cock stretching the teenager open with each second of pressure until the largest part passed through and his lover's muscles clamped down on him. 

Moist hands around each other's dick, Justin and Brian slowly jacked one another's meat while watching their doubles fuck. Listening for cues, adjusting their actions, they found the right rhythms and correct amount of pressure to produce and maintain the maximum of pleasure. 

Brian shifted positions and, with one foot on the floor and the other on the sofa, eased his dick inside Justin, who was bent double below him. The teenager cried out as he was penetrated, catching his lip between his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead and rolling down his face. Head lolling about on the chair arm, he glimpsed himself being fucked on the television.

Supporting himself on his hands and arms, Brian thrust into Justin's hole, withdrawing to the tip and then sliding all the way back in before Justin could catch his breath. The room was filled with their ragged panting, with Justin moaning into the comforter, and with the wet sound of fucking. Lube ran down between Justin's thighs dampening the bed beneath him. It felt like the tiny feet of an insect traveling down his skin. 

Brian placed a hand on either side of Justin's head and kissed him hard as the teen climbed upon this lap and sat down on his cock. He slid up into his lover with relative ease and sighed as Justin's ass came to rest against his groin. The floor was hard but he barely felt it, all he could concentrate on was how tight Justin had suddenly become as the teen gripped him with his muscles and held on. "Fuck!" he exclaimed and leaned back against the sofa, cock throbbing as the teen's warm, swollen lips traveled the length of his shaft. Justin loosened his grip and rose up off of him slowly, savoring each hard inch. The air reverberated with the sound of Justin moaning, both in real time and from the speakers that were hooked up to the television. Brian felt dizzy listening to the flock of groans and moans in stereo sound. 

_One more, one more stroke, one more,_ he thought and then he shuddered and came, his head thrown back, neck bared and tendons taut, a shout strangled in his throat. When his muscles had relaxed enough to permit him to move, he changed positions, kneeling behind Justin, still buried inside the teen, and the boy rose up onto his hands and knees and reached for his cock, jerking on it until he came, Brian's dick hard inside him. As Justin beat off, Brian stroked and scratched his pumping hips, whispering, "That's my little boy, that's my baby. Come on, baby. Come on..." and Justin groaned as Brian's words grabbed hold of his nuts and yanked the cum from them, thick juice spewing onto the bedspread to lie there like pools of liquid pearls. 

Justin was wearing him out, fucking his cock raw. Jamming his ass down on Brian's dick, Justin tightened around his shaft and rocked his hips back and forth rapidly, squeezing Brian until he cried out and blew his load. Standing up and off of Brian, Justin gasped as the man sucked on his balls and thrust a finger up his gummy hole. With a shout, he sprayed the sofa, Brian's back, and his own belly. Collapsing into one another's arms, the two men watched drowsily as their on-screen selves jerked to a finish. "I love you, baby," Brian said and his words took flight on fragile, silken wings, brushing against his baby's soft skin.

Cock slamming into a willing ass, pubic hair and hole sticky with lube, the two lovers grunted and groaned as they fucked. Brian gripped the arm of the couch and rammed his dick home while Justin worked his own cock and balls with both hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, he exhaled noisily and spat cum the length of his torso. Justin's hole began to spasm, setting Brian off, and he gave a cry while cum geysered from his cock, filling the tip of the condom he wore. Withdrawing slowly, muscles still twitching, he lay down upon his lover, enveloped in his waiting arms. 

 

Justin lay on the rug next to Brian and stroked his smooth stomach, feeling the muscles flutter beneath his fingers. Like butterflies. 

 

_You give me butterfly_  
Got me flyin' so high in the sky   
I can't control the butterfly... 

 

"Butterflyz" written by Alicia Keys, published by Lellow Music Publishing, EMI Music Publishing (ASCAP), 2001.


	13. Blues in the Key of G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daphne returns to Pittsburgh for a visit and hooks up with Xavier, Michael meets a new guy, and Mel starts to resent Gus' relationship with his daddy and his daddy's boyfriend, Brian and Justin have to cope with the green-eyed monster, jealousy, and take a big step.

Returning to the studio after a meeting of the Institute's Diversity Council, of which he was its newest member, the Boy Wonder took a moment to step over to the window and check the sky. It had been overcast all afternoon and he hadn't brought an umbrella to school. He supposed Rennie or Xavier might have an extra one up in their rooms. He was gonna drop in on them anyway, tell them the good news: Daphne was coming home for a visit this weekend and he could not wait to see her. Especially now with the trial a little over a month away, he could use all the smiles and laughter he could get and Daphne was a guaranteed good time. Brian, of course, was already brooding in anticipation of the event and the media circus that was sure to accompany it. Justin remembered what it had been like after he'd regained consciousness, seeing the slightly disappointed faces of the reporters outside the hospital-no doubt a more severely wounded victim would have made for better copy. Cynically, Brian had suggested that he could limp a little or pretend to have forgotten his name. He had never forgiven them for that shot of him leaving the loft, face tear-streaked and pinched with worry. "I looked like shit," he complained even now. "Sent the Brian Kinney stock plummeting." Justin didn't bother to remind him that his stock was no longer available for public trading. Despite the fact that, technically, theirs was an open relationship, Justin wasn't aware of any instances recently where Brian had taken advantage of the opportunity. Of course, he wasn't with him all day so he didn't really know but he felt that he would have known intuitively if Brian were fucking around. All of which was interesting but he hadn't found Xavier or Rennie and the evening was fast approaching.

Making his way to the dorm, Justin climbed the stairs to the third floor where Xavier lived in a suite with two other guys. He knocked and heard Xavier call out, "Coming!" After a moment, Xavier threw open the door, his hair partially unbraided, a comb in one hand. "Hey, J."

"Hey." Following Xavier to his room, Justin sat at the desk and watched while the other teen cornrowed his hair without benefit of a mirror. "How do you know what you're doing?"

"My grandmama taught me."

"No, I mean, how can you tell what you're doing?"

Without missing a beat, Xavier replied, "Good hands. Sensitive fingers."

Blushing as he thought of Brian's hands and fingers and all that they could do, Justin ducked his head and made a non-committal sound before remembering why he'd come looking for Xavier in the first place. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Daphne's coming home this weekend."

"Check it out." Xavier finished up the row. Paused. Looked at Justin from the side. "You think she'd go out with me?"

"Daphne?" Justin recalled Daphne's assessment of Xavier: 'He's a total hunk,' and smiled. "I think she might consider it." 

 

After rounding up Rennie, they went over to the diner for something to eat. Justin didn't have to work and they could all go back to their studios afterwards.

"So what about me?" asked Rennie, spearing a cherry tomato and eating it like it was the finest Beluga caviar.

"What about you?"

"Well, you and Brian are going out with Daphne and Xavier--"

"Who said anything about me and Brian going?"

Xavier looked panic-stricken. "You're not coming?"

"I mean, I can come," explained Justin, "just don't look for Brian. He wouldn't be caught dead on a double-date of any kind, much less with three teenagers. He'd rather be set on fire and burned alive." 

 

"I'd rather wrap my dick in barbed wire than go out on a double-date with you and the cast of Real World in Pittsburgh," Brian said while hanging up his dry cleaning.

"Which is why I asked Rennie instead," added Justin smugly.

Brian folded his sweaters and put them away. "Just remember to use protection," he said over his shoulder.

Coming up behind him, Justin tickled him and the older man collapsed against the chest of drawers giggling. "What's gonna protect you from me?" the teen asked.

He turned in Justin's arms and replied, "You are."

Justin stepped back and tugged on Brian's shirt the way Brian often did to him. "Then you're in big trouble," he declared and he pulled him down upon the bed. 

 

Brian could hear Emmett asking Ted about the wine and he paused before knocking. Although he'd had a relatively stress-free day at work, he wondered if he was really up for this. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with them--they were his best friends--but sometimes he just wanted to be alone. Maybe tonight was one of those nights. He started to turn away when he heard them laughing and he smiled and shook his head and knocked. 

 

"So, what's the big secret?" Em asked Michael.

"What?"

Ted answered, "The reason you've been grinning like the Cheshire cat all during the appetizers."

"Well..." he began.

"You've met someone," Emmett guessed.

Brian glanced over at his best friend and studied him closely. Em was right. He had all the signs: the silly grin, the sparkle in his eyes, slightly flushed cheeks, nervous movements. "You have, haven't you?"

"Yeah," he confessed.

"So...." asked Emmett, "where'd you meet?"

Michael ducked his head. "Comic book store."

"Not the guy who works there?" Brian asked worriedly, remembering what a lousy lay he'd been.

"Nah. Jeff's a reporter."

"Jeff," repeated Emmett. Then in a pleased voice, "A reporter."

"Print or TV?" asked Ted.

"TV. He works for WPXI channel 11."

"Ooo," cooed Emmett. "Proud as a peacock."

Ted added, "A pixie peacock."

"A peacock pixie."

Broan growled, "Shut. Up."

Micahel grinned: Brian would never change, despite the fact that he himself was in a relationship, he still couldn't quite accept the fact that Michael might want to be with someone. He thought that after David Brian would have been better but here he was getting bent out of shape and trying to hide it. Again. "He was one of the reporters that covered Justin's case." Like the rest of the men, Michael rarely referred to the attack as a bashing. It was just too descriptive of what had happened.

"Send out the fag to cover the faggot news."

Shocked, Emmett popped Brian on the arm. "Don't say that."

Taking a sip of his wine, Brian asked, "So what's he like?"

He shrugged. "He's nice. Reads _The Sandman_. That's why he was at the comic book store. They'd ordered one of the novels for him and he was there to pick it up." Michael paused. "I never got The Sandman."

"Maybe he'll explain it to you," suggested Em seductively.

"Maybe he'll use small words," added Brian in the same seductive tone. "So what's he look like?"

"Six one, black hair, dark brown eyes, really high cheekbones," replied Michael.

"Ooo," purred Em, snagging a canape from the tray. "Maybe he's got Native American blood."

Ted finished his wine and reached for the bottle. "You go out?"

"Just coffee at this place around the corner from the comic book store. But we've got a date for Saturday night."

"In or out of the apartment?" asked Emmett.

"You got a hot one coming over?"

"Cool. The mortician," referring to the guy he'd met the night Ted had OD'd. "Seems he really likes dressing me up. He's making a house call."

Michael laughed. "Should I check to make sure you're still among the living when I get in?"

Shivering, Em replied, "Please do."

"Hey." A thought popped into Ted's head. "Why don't you and Jeff go out on a double-date with Brian and Justin?" He and Emmett laughed in anticipation of Brian's response.

"Because," Brian answered, "Justin's going on a double-date with Daphne and his little playmates from school."

Appropriating the last appetizer from the tray, just beating out Emmett, Michael asked, "So what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. It's one evening." He drained his glass, studied the dregs of the wine. "Maybe I'll go pick up Gus. He always has time for his Da da." 

 

Michael sat in the living room with Brian while Emmett and Ted got the food and set the table. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Brian stood and wandered around the room wondering for the thousandth time what Ted had against style.

"He's a really nice guy."

"Good."

Anger flaring up, Michael asked, "Why can't you be happy for me?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"You do." Brian faced him. "Every time I bring him up you get this look."

"What kind of look?"

"Like you could care less."

Brian plopped back down. "I don't know him. I can only get so excited about someone I don't know."

Carrying a tray to the table, Em said, "That's not what I've heard from the guys in the back room."

Ted added, "Two thousand satisfied customers can't be wrong."

And the once and future King cocked an imaginary crown and reclined on the pillows of the couch. 

 

Justin helped Jennifer clear the table while Xavier and Rennie played Tomb Raider with Molly. "Hey. Daphne's coming this weekend."

"Tell her I said hi. How's she doing?"

"She loves Princeton." He paused. "I miss her though."

Handing him a dish to put on his stack, Jennifer said, "And I bet she misses you too."

His mind on their trip to see her in New Jersey, Justin laughed. "And Brian."

"How is he?" she asked. They hadn't run into one another since the memorial show at IFA.

"He's okay."

Taking the plunge, she asked, "You two doing all right?"

"Yeah," he replied and then stopped what he was doing. "Why?"

The sound of Xavier shouting in defeat interrupted her reply. He looked into the living room to see Molly and Rennie doing a victory dance and Xavier cradling his head. Justin laughed at his friend's predicament and sympathized with him. Molly was pretty good, she'd beaten him more than once. "He's kind of freaked out about the trial though."

Not wanting to talk about it but sensing that he did, Jennifer said, "It can't be easy for either of you."

He shrugged. "We'll make it."

"Look after yourself," she warned. "I know you love him but, honey, you're going be under a tremendous amount of pressure. You need to take care of yourself."

As if she didn't understand at all, he explained, "We'll take care of each other. Besides," he added, "it's gonna be harder for him. Because he's older, because people will think things about him, not knowing anything about us. I won't let anyone or anything hurt him," he declared.

"Honey, he's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

But he disagreed. "He needs me. And I won't let him down." He thought about how Brian had come to him and cried after his mom had effectively given up on them. "Not like everyone else has." 

 

As she finished strapping the baby into his car seat, Lindz asked, "Are you sure you wanna take him for the entire weekend?"

"Yeah, Maw," he said loading the last of Gus' shit into the Jeep. "You having second thoughts?"

"No, Paw." She kissed the baby and shut the door. "Only, let's not have any more repeats of the Infamous Banana/DVD Player Incident, okay?"

Brian exhaled noisily, disgusted that he had to explain yet again, "We were not fucking."

"So you say."

"I know the difference between fucking and not fucking," he assured her.

Waving at Gus, Lindsay added, "Just be careful. He's slow but he gets around." She'd already gone over Brian's place with a fine-tooth comb and made sure that it was as Gus-proof as possible, making him put locks on the cabinets that contained cleaning supplies--of which there were few since the cleaning lady brought her own--and putting anything that could cut, jab, gouge, strangle, or choke out of reach of tiny hands. But there was still plenty Gus could get into, witness the Banana/DVD Player Incident. "See you on Sunday."

Brian got into the Jeep and glanced back at the baby. "No more bananas for you." Gus giggled and Brian shook his head. Why didn't he think that would keep Gus out of trouble at all? 

 

Justin was waiting when Da da and Sonny Boy arrived. Taking the baby from Brian while he carried in his stuff, the teenager kissed him and removed his coat and shoes. "Hey, Gus." The baby smiled and seemed happy to see him but he didn't say anything. Both Brian and Justin listened carefully whenever the youth spent any time with Gus to see if they could detect any pattern to the baby's utterances around him, wanting to see if Gus used any particular word for Justin. He called both Mel and Lindz Ma ma but so far he only called Brian Da da.

Squiriming, Gus got Justin to put him on the floor and he headed for his Da da, wrapping his arms around Brian's legs. Brian picked him up and carried him into the bedroom where he deposited the baby's things then brought the tot back to the livingroom and put him on the floor with his Beh. But Gus was more interested in the rug and in trying to pull out handfuls of pile to no avail but it did keep him busy long enough for the two lovers to enjoy a proper greeting. With regret they parted, breathing hard and far from satisfied. "Later," promised Brian. After the baby had gone to sleep. "What are we doing about dinner?"

"New recipe," Justin replied, getting up and going into the kitchen.

Watching and waiting until his hips disappeared around the counter, Brian found the remote and turned on the TV. Skimmed the news and settled on Nickelodeon. Lindsay said Gus loved _The Rugrats_. Well, they weren't on yet but the bright colors of whatever was on caught Gus' eyes and he tottered towards the television. "Gus." The baby stopped and looked around. Brian crooked his finger. "Come here."

Giggling, Gus said very distinctly, "No."

"Gus...." Trying to keep his face neutral, Brian said again, "Come here."

Again the baby giggled and this time he took a step closer to the television. When Brian got up from the sofa, he laughed and tried to run away but his daddy caught him with ease and the sound of them laughing made Justin smile. He could already tell: Brian and his son were gonna have some spectacular battles once Gus hit puberty and turned into a miniature of his dad. He didn't envy Mel and Lindsay. Or maybe Brian would understand Gus and take his side. In that case, God help the two women cause they were gonna need it. 

 

Having given Gus his bath by taking him into the shower with them--water turned on low and warm, one of them holding the baby while the other one washed his hair and wriggling body--they put him to bed and Justin read him a story, Gus fighting to keep his eyes open. They were making their way through _Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner_ one visit at a time. "It was the first party to which Roo had ever been and he was very excited. As soon as ever they had sat down he began to talk.

_" 'Hallo, Pooh!' he squeaked."_

And Gus said sleepily, "Pooh."

Justin called to Brian who was cleaning up the bathroom. "Gus said, 'Pooh.' "

"Maybe his diaper needs changing."

"Very funny. I've never heard him say that before." He turned back to Gus. "Pooh."

"Pooh."

"He said it again."

"Yippee," Brian said, using Mel's second favorite phrase after 'Asshole.'

"Pooh," the baby said one last time and closed his eyes.

They left Gus sleeping in the bed and tiptoed to the living room, making themselves comfortable on the couch. "Where were we?" asked Brian.

"You promising something about later," Justin reminded him.

"Oh, yeah." Ten minutes later, as Brian made good on his promise, Gus woke up and began to fuss. Cursing beneath his breath, Brian wiped his mouth and went to see what he wanted. Found him sitting up in bed about to cry. He took him in his arms. "What's wrong, Gus?"

"Pooh," he said miserably, rubbing his eyes.

"Okay." Getting the book, Brian started to read from it when Gus pushed it away.

"Pooh." Justin entered the room and Gus cried, "Pooh," and reached for him.

Brian laughed and gave Gus to Justin. "Here, Pooh."

"That is not funny," said the teen taking Gus from his father. He wiped away the baby's tears and kissed his cheek. "What is it, Gus?"

"Pooh," he said softly and snuggled up to Justin's chest.

So the teenager stayed with him until Gus fell asleep again and then Brian brought his bear and put it in bed with him, dragging Justin away. "I don't like to share," he explained. 

 

The name stuck. The next morning Gus babbled, "Da da," and "Pooh," to them as they fixed breakfast and when Justin left to go meet Daphne, giving the baby a kiss first, Gus said, "Pooh," in such a plaintive tone that Justin was tempted to call Daphne and cancel but Brian assured him that the tot would get over it. Besides, they were meeting up at the diner for lunch.

Only, after Justin had gone, both father and son sat in the living room missing him. 

 

"So he said he really likes me?" Daphne asked as they browsed the stands along Liberty Avenue.

"No," answered Justin, "he said he wanted to go out with you." Daphne punched him in the arm. "Ouch."

"This ought to be fun. I wish Brian were coming."

Justin looked at her like she had lost her mind. "Hello? Brian would kill all of us after a couple of hours."

"He did okay when you guys came to visit me at school," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but that was just hanging out. It wasn't a date." He spotted a scarf that was a beautiful mixture of purples and blues and shades of gold. "I'm gonna get this."

"For your mom?"

"No. For me. It's got good colors," he explained. "I can use it to mix paint by. For class." By the time he'd paid for the scarf, it was time to head over to the diner to meet Brian and Gus for lunch. "He calls me Pooh."

"Brian?" Daphne couldn't see it.

"No, Gus."

She laughed. "That is so cute. Da da and Pooh."

"I think it's cause of the party and cause I read Winnie-the-Pooh stories to him. You should have been at his party. It was great." Then his expression darkened. "And then Brian's mom showed up and almost ruined everything." He gripped his package. "She is such a bitch. He went to see her a few days later and she practically shoved him out the door. He says he's never going back."

"That's too bad."

He disagreed. "I think he's right." Moving closer to her he said, "He was crying, Daph. She doesn't deserve him."

Knowing how fiercely protective he was of Brian, she didn't argue. "Least he's got you and Gus and his friends."

"I'm never leaving him," he told her. "Never." 

 

As soon as they entered the diner they heard, "Pooh!" and then the laughter of several of the other patrons at nearby booths.

Justin hurried over to where Brian and Gus were before the baby could call out to him again. "Hey, Gus," he said, sliding in on the empty side of the booth. Daphne sat next to him.

"Hi, Brian," she said, smiling at both father and son.

"Hey, darling," replied Brian, giving Justin the eye. "How's my favorite co-ed?"

"Fine." She studied Gus and then Brian. "He's so beautiful. He looks exactly like you." Then she realized what she'd said and blushed deep red.

Brian laughed. "I love this girl." 

 

Lunch over, Daphne kept Gus occupied while Brian and Justin said goodbye. "What time are you getting in?"

"Late. I'll probably just go home." At Brian's silence, he explained, "To keep from waking Gus."

"You coming over tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Daphne's leaving in the morning."

"Lucky me," he said, turning away.

"Brian."

Taking a deep breath, he replied, "Yeah."

"Didn't we already do this once?"

"Well, it keeps on happening, now doesn't it?"

"That's not fair--"

Cutting off any further remarks, Brian said, "Whatever."

"No, not whatever." Justin got in his face. "I don't bitch when you spend time with your friends."

"That's because you're usually with me." Brian tried to keep his temper and voice down.

"You could have come tonight but you didn't want to," Justin reminded him.

Daphne crossed to where they stood attempting not to have a public argument. "Guys?" They both turned. "People are starting to stare." It was true, a few people had taken an undue interest in their conversation.

Brian glared at a couple that was a little too obvious with their observations. "Fuck 'em." He took Gus from her. Kissed her on the cheek. "Later."

The two teens watched as he carried the baby to the Jeep, buckled him in, and got behind the wheel. When they had gone, Daphne turned to Justin. "I'm sorry. You don't have to come with us tonight."

"Yes, I do," he said, refusing her offer. "He has to learn that the world doesn't exist to give him what he wants 24/7." 

 

By nine o'clock that night he was regretting his words and his decision. Xavier and Daphne were sickening sweet and Rennie's running commentary on everything was driving him crazy. He couldn't believe that she had an opinion on everything from breakfast cereal to the mitigating factors of World War II to why Sandy Squirrel wore a flower on her diving suit on Spongebob Squarepants. And he couldn't believe how much Xavier had changed. He hardly recognized him. Instead of cracking jokes and ragging Rennie, he spent the entire evening mooning over Daphne and making sure she never had to do anything for herself. If he could have spoon fed her at dinner, he would have. Justin thought he was going to hurl. Even when he'd been injured in the hospital, Brian hadn't babied him as much. What was up with Xavier?

At that moment Daphne and Xavier were on the dance floor, Justin having agreed to bring them to Babylon and did he ever regret that. Ted and Em were there as well and Rennie had cornered them for fifteen minutes asking them all kinds of embarrassing questions about Brian that Justin had refused to answer but that Brian's two friends were more than happy to answer knowing how much Brian would hate it. Rennie, meanwhile, was going on and on about the music and wondering why they hadn't played any Tori Amos and having had enough, Justin blurted out, "Because you can't dance to it and it's fucking depressing, that's why!"

She stared at him for a full ten seconds before shrugging and beginning a discourse on something, which he didn't hear, because he'd decided to have a happy moment thinking about him and Brian making love on the sofa last night while Gus slept. 

 

Gus had finally settled down, having tried to drive Brian crazy by singing, "Da da da da da da da," for the past five minutes. Now he lay in bed, still singing, but softer and more slowly, as sleep stalked him on cat's paws. Finally, he uttered one soft, "Pooh," as if he remembered Justin and realized he wasn't there, and fell asleep. Brian held his breath, hoping Gus wouldn't wake up again tonight like he had the night before calling for Justin because Justin wasn't there and wouldn't be there. He might have come but their argument outside of the diner had probably sealed his decision not to drop in after his date.

And it's all my fuckin' fault, Brian said to himself. Yeah, it was. Why did he do these things? Why hadn't he been understanding? Why had he made a scene? "Fuck it," he mumbled. There was no point in going over that now. Settling down on the sofa, he turned on the boob tube, ran through half a dozen channels and shut it off again. Got out the book on photography that he'd bought a couple weeks ago, but his mind wasn't on filters and he put it away again. His mind was on Justin.

He really had understood about Daphne and he liked Daphne, was glad to see her too and, truthfully, the idea of spending an evening with her and Xavier and Justin shouldn't have made him run the other way but it had. It was a couples' thing. But you're part of a couple, he told himself although there was no need. He knew it. Not only were he and Justin a couple but now his son had recognized it by giving Justin a name the way he had everything and everyone important in his life: Da da, Ma ma, Ma ma, Beh, and Pooh. Brian shook his head and smiled despite his bad mood. Pooh. Right now he'd give almost anything if Pooh came through that door. He turned and waited. But Justin didn't come home. Giving up, Brian got up and joined Gus in bed. Maybe the best he could do was to get a good night's sleep and start over in the morning. It seemed like he did a lot of that: starting over; and he supposed he was lucky that Justin gave him so many chances. 

 

Brian woke sometime around five and discovered that he and Gus were not alone. Turning to check on the baby, he found a third person in bed with them. A person with blond hair and blue eyes, eyes that were wide open and gazing at him from across the way. Without speaking, they rose from the bed and met at the foot.

"I'm sorry," Brian whispered against Justin's lips a second before they kissed and the boy said nothing in return, just held him tighter and gnawed on his mouth.

Careful not to wake Gus, they made love in the early morning silently, Justin biting back the moans that threatened to spill from his lips; Brian fighting the urge to shout, to call him his baby, his little boy, his sticky honey bear. One hand around his cock and the other holding onto the edge of the cabinet that ran around two sides of the bedroom, Justin opened his mouth, forming a soundless O as Brian thrust into him from behind. He wouldn't have missed this for anything, would rather be here than anyplace else he could think of, could imagine. Swallowing a cry, he spilled his cum all over the side of the cabinet, watching it form Rorschach patterns on the dark wood. He could feel Brian's cock swell inside him and then the man jerked against him and grunted low in his belly and came as well. And Gus slept on, unaware of it all.

As soon as Brian withdrew, Justin started to look for something to clean the cabinet but Brian stopped him and said softly, "Sit down." He sat on top of the shelf, his legs spread open, and watched in amazement as Brian got to his knees and lapped the thick liquid from the side of the cabinet. Face smeared with spunk, Brian lowered his head between Justin's thighs and licked his cock clean as well. "Mmmm," he moaned into his groin and Justin's cock twitched.

"Oh, fuck..."

Brian kissed his belly and smiled. 

 

The moment Lindz opened the door, he could tell something was up. Of course, he'd figured something was wrong as she'd been a little subdued each time he'd called to let Gus talk to her during the weekend but he'd figured it had nothing to do with him. Seeing the look on her face when she greeted him he knew his optimism had been built on false hope and that, once again, he'd come between her and Mel somehow. "What's up?" he asked as he handled Gus to her.

"Um..."

Mel appeared and kissed Gus. "You're here." She wasn't talking about the baby.

"So what am I supposed to have done this time? Plotted to overthrow the government?"

"You could check before you just take him for the weekend."

"I did check," he replied. "How else do you think I was able to get him?"

"Well, nobody checked with me," she said and walked away.

Lindz laid a hand on Brian's arm. "Let it go--"

Far from letting it go, he followed Mel. "Well, that's not my problem," he told her. "That's yours and Lindsay's."

"No, you're our problem." She glared at him and for a second looked as if she wanted to say more but didn't for whatever reason. Maybe because Lindz and Justin were staring at the two of them as if they expected them to come to blows.

"This is bullshit," he declared.

"I'm his legal guardian."

"Because I gave up my rights," he reminded her. "You see him all the time. All week, every week. It's not like I get him every weekend. So what's the big fucking problem?"

Gus squirmed and Lindsay put him down. He tottered to his daddy and grabbed hold of his leg. "Da da da da da." Brian picked him up and held him, focusing on his hazel eyes so like his own instead of Mel's dark, angry ones. "Pooh," the baby said, looking around at Justin. The teenager came and took him and Gus giggled.

"Pooh?" asked Lindz.

"It's what he calls Justin."

Mel shook her head. "Great. Just great. He calls your boyfriend Pooh."

"He calls you Ma ma," Brian replied.

"Because I am. I'm his parent. Something neither of you are."

Trying to keep the heat from his face, Justin handed Gus back to Lindsay and moved closer to Brian. When he looked up in his face, he could see the hurt and the anger he refused to show mirrored in his lover's features. "Brian..." he began, hoping the sound of his voice would keep the man from losing it.

Softly, Brian said, "Let's go."

"Bri..." Lindsay paused. "I'm sorry. She didn't mean it."

Taking Gus from her, Mel said, "Don't apologize for me. And I did mean it. They're not his parents." She carried the baby upstairs.

Without saying anything else, the two men left.

Only once they were inside the Jeep did Brian speak. "I'm not gonna walk away from him."

"He loves you. He needs you."

"He needs his Pooh too," Brian added, laughing and starting the car.

Justin shut his eyes. "I wonder how long it'll take him to learn to say Justin?" 

 

After everyone settled in, Em opened the floor to questions. "So, how was your date with Jeff?" he asked Michael and his roommate smiled shyly.

"You got laid," Brian pronounced and this time Michael didn't deny it. "Was he any good?"

"Fabulous."

"Low standards. After all, you're used to Dr. Dave."

Justin nudged him. "Play nice."

"So, the earth moved, did it?" He glanced at Justin. "Better?"

"Much."

Michael shook his head. "No, the earth did not move." Then he added, "But the bed did some serious rocking." Ted and Emmett and Justin laughed. "Do you guys mind? I asked him to come with us tonight."

"I don't mind," said Ted. "Do you mind?" he asked Brian.

"Why should I mind?" He opened the menu. "I'm hungry." Ted, Emmett, and Michael made eyes at one another, each wondering what Brian really made of all this, when Brian said, "I can see you, you know," and Justin barked a laugh.

They went back to the loft after brunch to spend the afternoon in sinful leisure.

Justin flipped through the channels until he found one that was showing The Empire Strikes Back. "I love old movies," he said in all seriousness.

Rolling his eyes, Brian muttered, "You are so not getting any this afternoon."

Totally ignoring his comment, Justin asked, "You really don't care about Michael's new boyfriend?"

"Why should I care? I'm not going out with him."

"Who? Michael or Jeff?"

"Take your pick."

They were laying on the sofa, Brian up against the back and Justin curled in his arms. "I pick... Harrison Ford."

"Sorry. I saw him first."

"I wasn't even born yet when this came out," he commented unnecessarily.

"Would you shut up and watch the movie?"

Just then the phone rang and Justin got up to answer it. "Hello? Hey. Nothing. Watching The Empire Strikes Back."

Brian tuned him out. Could be any of his little friends or his mom or Deb.

"Yeah," said Justin. "Uh-huh." He so did not want to hear anything else about Daphne from Xavier. And the teen was going on and on about her, about how much he liked her and really wished she went to school in Pittsburgh and on and on and on. Finally, Xavier ran out of steam. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Later." Dropping the phone down, Justin returned to the sofa and crawled next to Brian. Princess Leia was telling Han Solo he was a scoundrel. Justin looked around at Brian. "That's what you are: a scoundrel."

Echoing Han Solo, Brian said, "Scoundrel? I like the sound of that." He ran his thumb over Justin's lower lip. "I bet you like scoundrels," and Justin climbed on top of him and kissed him. Nope. He loved them. 

 

So that was the guy, Brian thought. Not bad. But he didn't remember him from the horde of reporters who'd shown up at the house and the hospital after Justin's attack. There were just too many of them and he'd been more concerned with Justin at the time. Still was. He looked down at his lover and slipped an arm around his shoulders. The teen flashed one of his brightest. They couldn't stay long, he had school in the morning. This was just a show of good faith for Mikey.

Michael saw them coming and took a big gulp of his beer. Please let this go okay, he prayed to no one in particular, to whomever was listening.

Brian and Justin stopped about a foot away. "What's up?" said Brian.

Indicating Jeff, Michael made introductions. "Jeff, this is Brian and Justin. Brian and Justin, Jeff."

Justin held out his hand. "Hey."

Taking it, Jeff said, "I feel like I already know you."

"Mikey tell you all about us?" asked Brian.

"No. From researching Justin's story." When he noticed the annoyed and suspicious look Brian gave him, he apologized. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

"No problem," Justin assured him. Turned to Brian. "Let's dance." They moved onto the floor; Justin waved to Emmett and Ted.

Michael grimaced. "I should have warned you. Brian's a little protective of Justin."

"I would be too. That kid could have killed him."

"They don't like to talk about it, that's all."

Jeff held up his hands. "I get the picture. Reporter Man has hung up his costume for the evening. Tonight, I'm just a mild-mannered suitor." He smiled. "Wanna dance?"

"I thought you'd never ask." 

 

"He's not bad," Justin commented as they got ready for bed.

"Yeah."

Justin paused, unable to figure out just what Brian meant by that. It didn't seem as if he'd disliked Jeff. In fact, after the reporter's initial faux pas, he and Brian seemed to get along fine. So what was with the noncommittal 'Yeah'? Maybe it wasn't Jeff and Michael at all. "Something wrong?"

Brian threw back the covers and slipped beneath the sheet. "I thought I did the right thing. Giving up my rights to Gus."

Sliding in next to him, painfully aware that he'd counseled Brian to do just that after initially being against it, Justin said, "You did do the right thing. Mel'll come around," he promised.

"And meanwhile I have to beg and plead to see my own kid." He set the alarm. "It was a lot easier when I didn't give a shit."

"It's too late now. There's no turning back," Justin told him, returning the advice Brian had given him once upon a time. "Besides, I think you've always cared. You just didn't show it."

"Fat lot you know," Brian snorted.

"I do know a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like..." he said snuggling up to his lover and caressing his bare chest. "I know you're dying to make love to me."

Brian closed his eyes as Justin stroked his nipples. "What gave me away?"

The teen cupped the older man's groin, Brian's cock already stiffening. "Oh, this and that." 

 

He couldn't believe it when Cynthia buzzed him and announced that his son had come to see him. But in a few moments Lindz came in with Gus and he heard the baby's familiar refrain, "Da da da da."

"Hey, Sonny Boy." Holding Gus in his arms he asked, "So?"

"So, she's a little jealous."

"Of what?"

"Of you and Gus, of Gus and Justin. It's hard for her. You're Gus' father and she's never going to have that biological connection to him."

Brian sneered. "That's bullshit and you know it. Being related to my parents never meant a goddamn thing."

"That's the other part. That Gus has taken to Justin the way he has."

"He and Gus were close before we ever got together. That was your doing, yours and hers."

"I know. But now it's different."

"I'm not trying to take Gus away from her. I gave him up for her."

"I know--"

"And all I got for my troubles was another bitching out."

"Bri, she's worried about Gus." Pause. "So am I."

He frowned. "Why? You think I'll let something happen to him?"

"I know you'll look after him. It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's that he's getting used to Justin being with you. You're Da da and Pooh now."

And he finally understood. "Is the entire world taking bets on how long it's going to be before we fall apart?"

"Bri--"

"Because God knows, I can't be trusted to do anything right."

"That's not--"

"And why would he stay with me when he could be with someone better?"

She looked away. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean. I'm sorry."

Setting Gus down on the floor, Brian said softly, "I always thought you'd be on my side."

"I have to think about Gus now. What's best for him."

Afraid to ask, he did anyway. "And what's best for him? To stay away from me and Justin until we prove to you that we're serious? Hell, you and Mel can't even promise that you'll always be together. What's to keep her from fucking around again and you two splitting up. Again?"

"Nothing. Except that we're committed to one another," and unconsciously she touched the gold band she wore.

"So are we. Only, I guess because we haven't exchanged rings, it doesn't count."

"Bri, you can't even give up other men for him--"

"What we do together is our business!"

Lindsay glanced at the baby to see if he'd been disturbed by the outburst. Gus was still exploring his daddy's office. "I have to consider everything, Bri. For his sake. Hey, baby. Come on, let's go and let Da da get back to work."

Gus came back to Lindsay and reached for her hand. "Ma ma."

"You haven't said what this means," said Brian, trying to keep it together.

"I don't know what it means." She stood and picked Gus up.

Brian watched them leave and tried not to feel as if he'd just lost them both. 

Rennie compared grades of fake fur for her new piece while Justin tagged along, not really looking for anything, just wanting to be away from the Institute, away from Xavier. He hadn't said a thing about his annoyance to either of them though because he didn't want to cause dissention. However, Rennie had picked up on it and suggested he go shopping with her to buy fake fur for her new sculpture. "What's it called?" Justin had asked.

" 'Industrial-Strength Pussy.' "

And he'd laughed. "Subtle."

After finding a grade she deemed suitable, Rennie made her purchase and they headed back to their studios. About three blocks away from school, she asked, "So are you getting as sick of Xavier and his Daphne fixation as I am?"

Justin sighed with relief. "More."

"You know they're planning on doing it when she comes this weekend."

"What?"

She twisted her lip. "Oops. Guess not."

"Daphne didn't say anything about it and neither did Xavier," he said, a little perturbed that he'd been left out of the loop.

"Well, Xavier tells me stuff cause I'm like neutral. He's not interested in me so he can tell me anything."

"It used to be that way with me and Daph." And he thought he and Xavier had been getting pretty tight too.

"Did you really fuck her?"

"Just once."

"Didn't it feel weird?"

He shrugged. "I guess. I mean, I didn't get into it or anything. I just did it cause we were friends and she wanted me to."

Rennie swung her bag carelessly. "What if it doesn't work out for them? Won't that be a little awkward?"

But he was more worried about what would happen if they did hit it off. The thought of spending the next four years getting news about Daphne from Xavier seemed a little unbearable to him right now and he wasn't quite sure why except that Daphne had been his friend first and now she was Xavier's girlfriend? It was too weird and even though he knew it was selfish and unkind of him, he couldn't help it: he wished he'd never introduced them. 

 

He slipped onto the stool next to Mikey. Jeff was on the other side. "Hey."

"Hey.

Jeff nodded.

"Where are the guys?"

"Emmett skipped to go to a sale at Bloomies and Ted had to work through lunch. Mr. Wertshafter wanted him to redo some report that had to go out this afternoon."

"Oh." He studied his menu. Closed it.

"I thought the Boy Wonder was joining us."

"He said his class might get cancelled but he wasn't sure. Guess it didn't." He leaned over and asked Jeff, "Not out chasing down some hot lead?"

"Even super reporters have to eat."

"So what's new in the Queer World?"

"Brian!"

Jeff took it in stride. "Well, in this queer's world, I took three suits to the dry cleaners, looked at new sheets for my bed, finally paid off my Visa card, and bought a copy of Garbage's new album."

Grinning, Brian said back and waited for some service. Touche. 

 

When Jeff appeared at dinner, however, he found himself unable to maintain his devil-may-care attitude, especially when Justin showed up and the reporter looked like a man who'd been given the keys to the kingdom. He could tell that Jeff was just barely refraining from pumping Justin for information about the attack. Every time the conversation edged closer to the topic, he could see the man's ears prick up and it was annoying the hell out of him because he didn't want to have to remember those frantic moments before the paramedics had arrived, cradling Justin's body in his arms, blood staining his collar and face as he leaned over him, protecting him from further harm even though Hobbs lay incapacitated and restrained by a group of people who'd arrived on the scene. Didn't want to remember the looks the hospital staff had given him, as if he had done something wrong. The hours of waiting, uncertain if Justin would live at all and in what condition. Sitting on his bed, having had disturbing confrontations with both his boss and his mother. The weeks of recovery, of finding their way to a new place together.

Justin touched his arm. "You okay?"

He stood. "I'm going for a smoke." Hoping to steal a few minutes alone, he stepped outside and leaned against the wall, lit up a cigarette, and took a long draw. God, he was trying to cut back but sometimes all he really needed was a couple of puffs.

"Mind if I bum one off of you?"

He turned to find Jeff at his side. Handed the pack over to him. Jeff shook one out and returned the cigarettes.

"Thanks."

Brian flipped the top on his Zippo and gave him a light. Paused before putting the lighter away and smiled. It was kind of tacky but he loved it. Mostly because it had been a gift from Justin.

"Nice lighter. Bic man myself. Three to a pack. Trying to quit though." Jeff let the cigarette dangle between his fingers. "Michael says you're the one to watch."

"Watch for what?"

"See which way the wind blows." Took a draw. Exhaled. "Hot or cold."

"He shouldn't care what I think." Brian dropped his cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it out with the heel of his shoe.

"But he does. And he thinks you don't like me."

Instead of obfuscating the issue, Brian said outright, "I don't like the fact that you were one of the reporters who covered Justin's attack. And I don't like the fact that a month before the trial, you show up with my best friend."

"Complete coincidence."

"Are you covering the trial?"

"There's no conflict of interest."

He hated it when people didn't answer his questions. "Are you covering the trial?"

"Probably. Unless my boss assigns someone else. It's one of the biggest stories of the year. Even after 9/11."

"It's not a story. It's our fucking lives." He walked a couple of feet away and stood staring into the night. Turned back. "I don't want you asking him any questions about Chris Hobbs or the attack or the trial."

"Fair enough."

"Then I've got no problem with you."

" 'not the same thing as liking me," Jeff pointed out to Brian.

"Well, I don't really like a lot of people, so don't take it personally," explained Brian.

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm not fucking you."

It sounded so much like something he might have said that Brian laughed despite himself.

"Better watch it, you might actually end up liking me."

Although the man's word was enough for him, he wasn't naive: he'd have to wait and see. And if Jeff knew what was good for him, he'd abide by their agreement and not make Brian regret taking him at face value. 

 

The Pad Thai was looking less and less appetizing as the meal progressed and it had nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with the fact that Justin would not shut up about Daphne and Xavier. So what if they'd hit it off? So what if Daphne called Xavier? She was three hundred fucking miles away. It wasn't like she and Xavier were going to get engaged tomorrow. The way Justin was carrying on you'd think he was being betrayed somehow and Brian was getting tired of listening to him bitch and moan. Still, he managed to keep his mouth closed. Which wasn't helping his appetite any. Finally, he'd had enough. Interrupting, he said, "I don't see what the problem is. It's not like you're fucking either of them."

"I didn't say I--"

"Well, you're carrying on like you were. What do you care what they do?"

"They're my friends. Daphne's my best friend. Has been since we were four years old."

"Well, maybe it's time you let go of her."

"The way you have Michael?" Dropping that line of inquiry, Justin continued, "You act like you don't care about me or my life."

"I'm just tired of you bitching about it, that's all."

"Like I don't get tired of listening to you bitch about stuff. I'm always there for you. All I do is take care of you."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me. I can take care of myself."

"You wish. You wouldn't even have a job now--" and he stopped abruptly, aware that he had made a terrible error in judgement. Of all the things he'd never wanted to tell Brian, this was at the top of the list.

"What did you say?" If he'd had the look of a lazy predator before, he was on the alert now.

"Nothing."

"Why wouldn't I have a job? What are you talking about?"

"It's--"

"Tell me," and there was no give in his voice. He was serious and Justin knew it.

"I got Kip to drop the sexual harassment suit."

When he'd gotten over his initial surprise, Brian asked, "How?"

"Bria--"

"How?"

There was no way in hell he was goiing to get away with not telling Brian about the entire sordid affair. "I picked him up at Woody's and I went home with him. Then I told him I was underage and that my dad had gotten the last guy I'd been with arrested and jailed. He started freaking out and I promised him I wouldn't tell my dad if he did something for me."

"Drop the suit."

"Yeah."

Brian got up from the table. "You had no right."

"I had every right. You were in trouble."

He kept walking, heading for where he didn't know, he just knew he had to get away from Justin. "I can take care of myself."

"You didn't have a chance."

Turning, angrier than he'd been in a long time, he yelled, "I didn't do anything wrong!" and he knew it wasn't just Justin, it was remembering Kip and feeling ashamed and used.

"You didn't have any proof. It was your word against his."

"Mel and I could have handled it. But I guess that wasn't good enough for you."

"I didn't want you to lose... Brian... Please. Say you understand."

"I understand that every fuckin' body thinks they know what's best for me. But you don't. Did you ever think that maybe your little stunt might have backfired? He could have come before the arbitrator and accused me of setting him up. He could have called your bluff." He tightened his lips. "He could have hurt you. Did you ever think about that?"

"No."

"Of course not. Because you're a fucking kid!" He took a deep breath and said softly, "I think you should go."

"Brian--"

"Go home, Justin."

A tear sprang to the corner of his eye. "Don't send me away," he begged.

"Go. Home." It was all he would say.

Grabbing his stuff, tears blurring his vision, Justin left the loft. Brian dropped to a chair and closed his eyes. Fuck. 

 

Oh shit. He'd known the second he'd blurted it out that it was going to be worse than he'd ever imagined it. Brian was beyond pissed. They were supposed to spend the weekend together but there was no way Brian was gonna let him come back any time soon. Why, why, why the fuck did he have to tell Brian about Kip? Such a fuckin' idiot. And he'd known, he'd known Brian would freak out if he found out, he'd known that and still... Why had he gotten so angry with Brian in the first place? He knew how Brian was. He'd bitch about Justin being a teenager but he'd listen. He'd listen and he'd offer a suggestion. Usually something Justin didn't want to do but, invariably, it'd turn out to be for the best. Although Brian was notoriously short-sighted when it came to dealing with his problems, he was surprisingly clear-eyed when it came to dealing with other people's. He usually gave hard but good advice. Only, what Justin had wanted wasn't the hard line according to Brian Kinney. What he'd wanted was for Brian to tell him he was right and that Daphne and Xavier were being assholes. Only, they weren't. They were just being themselves. And he ought to have been happy for them instead of bitching about it. And now, he might have lost Brian because he was jealous of them.

Luckily both Deb and Vic were gone when he got home. He didn't want to explain to them why he was back so soon, not yet, cause he knew they'd lecture him too. So after depositing his stuff upstairs, he came back down and grabbed a soda and called his best friend. He didn't expect her to be home, after all it was a Friday night, but when she answered the phone he could have shouted.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Daphne."

"Hey." He could see her bounce in his mind. "What's up?"

There was no point in beating around the bush. "Brian found out about Kip."

"No way. How mad was he?"

"He sent me home."

That mad, huh?"

Justin wiped his eyes where he'd begun to cry again. "What am I gonna do? He's so angry."

"He'll get over it."

"There's so much going on right now with him and Mel and Lindsay and now this. I can't believe I just blurted it out like that."

"What happened?"

"We were arguing and I just said it."

"What were you arguing about?"

About you he wanted to say. "Stuff."

"Well, I think it'll be okay. He loves you. He won't be able to stand it without you."

God, he hoped so. He hoped Brian missed him so much he came and got him in the middle of the night but he didn't think he'd hold his breath waiting for that to happen. Still, he said to her, "Yeah, you're right." Changing the subject, he asked her, "So why'd you want to come home this weekend?"

"I wanted to see you." Pause. "And Xavier." For what she didn't say.

And there was nothing else he could say. "I can't wait." 

 

Knocking on Michael's door, Brian hoped he was home and hadn't gone with Ted and Em. After waiting all of thirty seconds, he knocked again and started to turn away when the door opened and Michael appeared, ruffled and lazy-eyed. "Jeff's in there with you, isn't he?"

"Uh-huh."

"Nevermind. Go back and play." Brian started away.

"Wait." He paused. Michael rubbed his eyes. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I just thought... Nothing. Later." Not waiting to see if Michael had anything further to say, he made his way down the stairs and hopped back into the Jeep. Next stop: Babylon. Maybe dancing for an hour or so would take his mind off of things.

Ted and Emmett must have gone to Woody's cause he didn't see them anywhere inside. Which was just as well, he wasn't feeling particularly generous tonight and there was no telling what he'd say. Fuck! That little asshole... Knocking back a fourth of his beer, Brian narrowed his eyes and surveyed the crowd automatically before remembering yet again that he was in a relationship. Capital R. Only, according to Lindsay and Mel, that wasn't good enough. Well, fuck 'em. Gus was his kid, papers or no papers, and they could both just go to--

"Hey. I know you."

He turned. Blond guy. Green eyes. Not bad. Not bad at all. But the line was so--wait. He did know this guy. From where?

"Trevor Janson. IFA."

One of Justin's profs. "Yeah. Right. We met at the reception."

"Justin around? I didn't see him."

"I don't think so."

Trevor noted the choice of words. "Problems?"

"Differences of opinion." Brian finished his beer. "I'm going to dance." An invitation, if Trevor chose to interpret it that way. He did.

They moved onto the floor and let the music take them where it would. Trevor couldn't take his eyes off of Brian and, for his part, Brian was mesmerized by Trevor's eyes. He loved green eyes. As much as he loved Justin's blue eyes, and had loved Cam's blue eyes, green eyes really did it for him.

"See something you like?" asked Trevor, aware of Brian's scrutiny.

"You have beautiful eyes."

"That all?"

The music changed and Brian moved away from his partner but Trevor followed.

"I usually don't have to chase after guys," Trevor said.

"You don't have to chase after me either," replied Brian. "I'm taken."

"So why isn't he here protecting his property?"

"He doesn't have to be."

Tevor brushed a hand over Brian's forearm, his fingertips communicating his desires more eloquently than words.

Lids falling over his eyes, Brian thought about what was happening, thought about Justin at home crying probably, thought about waking up next to Trevor, about facing Justin with this on his conscience... "I can't," he said at last. "We've got rules. And one of them is we don't do people we know. You're his teacher for Christ's sake. How the fuck could I do that to him?"

"He doesn't have to know."

"I would know." Brian looked away from Trevor's face, away from those beautiful green eyes. "Let's not have this conversation again," he suggested and then he left. 

 

That night he tossed and turned in an empty bed, haunted by visions of green eyes that became blue eyes, eyes that followed his every move, that charted his path and watched to see if he remained on the course they had proscribed. And as he stepped away from the straight and narrow, the eyes shed huge tears that washed him away, like Alice in Wonderland. 

 

Morning found him nearly as exhausted as when he'd first gone to bed. Downing half a pot of coffee, he hung around the loft doing little chores he'd let pile up and when he was done he realized he still had the day left to fill. Justin would come, if he called him, the teen would come and apologize and strive to make up for what he had done. Brian knew that and he wanted to be with Justin but he was still so angry. What the hell had Justin been thinking? And he knew the answer to that question: Trying to help me. And he had. Justin had helped him. "There's the rub," he whispered. Finally, sick to death of being alone in the loft, he grabbed his camera and his book and headed out to see what he could see.

Two hours later, having taken way too many pictures of downtown Pittsburgh, he decided to drop in on Gus and Crew. Found them out in the yard enjoying the last of the warm weather. Autumn was just around the block, peering from between tree trunks. Gus, as usual, was ecstatic to see his daddy and ran to him calling his name. Brian squatted and Gus babbled about something he'd done or seen that morning. He waited for a translation.

"Squirrels," explained Mel. "Listen, about the other weekend..."

"I just want to see him," he told her. "I don't want custody, I don't want to take your place, I just want to see him."

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

And it was settled. Without talking it to death. At least one of his problems had been solved.

Lindz asked, "Where's Justin?"

He told the truth. "I don't know." Watched while Gus sat down to investigate a pile of dirt. "I sent him home."

"What happened?"

"He got Kip to drop the harassment suit."

"What?" This from Mel. "How?

"He blackmailed him."

"Son of a bitch. Does he know what could have happened?"

Remembering their knock-down, drag-out, he replied, "He does now."

"Unbelievable." She shook her head. "Kids."

"Yeah."

Lindsay looked at the rock Gus brought her. "He only did it for you."

"He could have ruined everything."

"But he didn't." She tossed him the rock. "He loves you. You know he'd do anything for you."

"What if that asshole had decided that he had nothing to lose? He could have hurt Justin." Now that he'd said the words out loud, he realized that fear had caused the greater part of his anger. As moisture gathered in his eyes, he looked away. He'd never told Lindsay what had happened to him. Never told anyone except Michael and Justin and had made both of them promise not to tell anybody. Not even Deb.

"Bri. He's okay. Nothing happened to him," said Lindsay, alarmed by the sudden appearance of tears.

"But something could have. And it would have been my fault."

Gus started to fuss and Mel picked him up. "Lunchtime." Carried him inside.

With Melanie and Gus gone, Lindsay asked, "What's really wrong?"

"He's eighteen years old and he thinks he's invincible. He didn't think for a moment that anything could happen to him. But it could have. It already has. And I couldn't protect him. All I could do was stand by and let it happen."

She didn't argue because she knew in his mind it would never be enough that he had saved Justin, kept Chris Hobbs from finishing him off, because he felt he should never have let Hobbs get close enough to Justin to hurt him in the first place.

"I don't ever want to pick up the phone and hear that he's hurt. Or worse."

"I think about Gus sometimes, going out into the world on his own, and I don't know how I'll do it, let go and trust him to do what's right for him."

"I trust Justin. I just... I don't trust the world. I know what the world is like." He wiped his eyes. "I know what people are like."

"Bri?"

"And you're not always strong enough, or quick enough, or smart enough."

She studied his face, the pain that was there. "You're not just talking about Justin and Kip, are you? Or Chris Hobbs."

He was tempted to tell her but he didn't want to have to look at Mel and see that in her eyes and he didn't want to cause further friction between them by swearing Lindz to secrecy, so he sniffled and said, "I guess it's thinking about the trial and everything else. Fuck. I cannot believe we're fighting about fuckin' Kip." Dropped the rock she'd thrown him. "Maybe you're right, maybe we're not gonna make it."

"Yes, you will. Because you love each other."

But he asked softly, "When has love ever been enough?"

And she couldn't answer him. Because she didn't know. She could only hope. 

 

They didn't talk much on the ride from Deb's to the loft. The things they needed to discuss wanted privacy, and walls, and space to roam, corners to retreat to, and a bed to fall into once the hard part was over.

"Anything could have happened to you," Brian told him once they were in the apartment, "and I would never have forgiven myself." He lowered his head, his words soft-spoken and painful. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I don't know how I'd make it without you," he said and he'd never felt so naked, so exposed.

"You can't protect me from everything."

"I didn't say that I could. All I'm asking is that you think, Justin."

"So I'm not supposed to take chances, to do anything that might get me hurt because it'll hurt you? That's not fair. You lived your life the way you wanted to. But, now, I'm not supposed to live mine?"

And there it was again: the difference between being eighteen and thirty. How could he make Justin understand when he hadn't? When he had risked his life a thousand times over, never thinking about tomorrow, not caring about tomorrow, living only for the moment, for this moment and not a second beyond. But he couldn't do that anymore because he had Gus and Justin and responsibilities. But if he had obligations, so did Justin. "There was this moment, just a split-second, when I turned to see if you were okay, and my heart stopped. You were lying on the floor of the parking garage and the blood had already started pooling beneath your head and I just knew you were dead. And I was lost, Justin. I didn't have any idea what to do next, I just-- Everything went black and I thought, This is how it's gonna be for the rest of my life..." He blinked and the tears rolled down his cheeks. "This horrible darkness."

Justin came to him then and closed his arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't know what else to do."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

And Brian closed his eyes because he knew better. After all, he was only eighteen. 

 

That thought came to him again as he watched Justin sleep, slipping so easily into a deep slumber. He would never again sleep so easily. Not that he ever had. There'd been too many demons even for the drugs and the sex to completely numb. He knew that it wasn't fair, using their love to blackmail Justin but he didn't know what else to do to convince a teenager that he wasn't indestructible. Having escaped from the attack with relatively minor injuries compared to what could have gone wrong, Justin didn't think for a moment that he wouldn't live forever. But Brian knew that, in reality, forever lasted only as long as it took a person to swing a bat.

God, he thought, _when did I get old?_

 

By Wednesday he was ready to kill Justin. Every night it was Xavier this and Xavier that and Brian had had just about enough of it. Breaking into Justin's latest comment, he said, "Here's a suggestion: fuck him and get it over with. I give you my blessing. I'll give you the condoms and the lube. You can use the loft. Anything to get you to shut the fuck up about Xavier."

There was silence on the other end and then the phone click.

"Shit." He called back but Justin's cell was off. Then he called Deb's line and Vic answered.

"He's gone."

"Thanks." So Justin had left the house. It was still relatively early, he'd probably gone back to school, to work in the studio for a couple of hours until he calmed down. Maybe go and see-Xavier. Brian held the phone in his hand. What should he do? Well, that was obvious. The real question was: what was he going to do? He laid the phone down and grabbed his jacket.

Twenty minutes later he was wandering the halls of IFA looking for Justin. The teen hadn't been in his studio and Brian didn't know which dorm room Xavier lived in although he supposed he could ask someone. Anyway, he hoped he wasn't with Xavier, hoped he was just walking off the anger and frustration. But the longer he walked, the angrier he got and he was just about to say fuck it and go home when he spotted Trevor Janson.

"Surprised to see you here," the man said.

"Looking for Justin."

"Try his studio?"

"Not there."

"Maybe he's not here."

"You think?"

"Oh," said Trevor knowingly. "It's not a social visit. Still having those differences in opinion?"

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Got anything to drink around here?"

Turned out Trevor had a bottle of Scotch in his desk drawer. "For emergencies." He poured them two measures each and lifted his glass in a silent toast. Brian raised his briefly and knocked back the liquor. "That bad, huh?"

"He's a teenager."

"And you're not." Brian shot him a look. "Just a statement of fact. But you already knew that. You knew that the moment you met. But it didn't stop you. So why should it now?"

"It's one thing to fuck someone. But to build a life together..." He didn't know why he was telling Trevor these things. They didn't really know one another, had only danced together once. He supposed it was because he couldn't talk to Mikey because Michael was trying to figure out if he and Jeff had a chance at anything other than sex and didn't have time for him and his problem-of-the-week.

"You having second thoughts?"

"And third and fourth. Every day I expect us to just--and every day I pray that it's not today. That I'm given one more day. Just one more." He got up, wanting to leave before he confessed all of his fears to an almost stranger. A stranger whom, under other circumstances, would have been someone he'd like to fuck, maybe even get to know. Christ. "I should go find him."

Trevor stood as well and went to open the door, but something in Brian's eyes made him stop and slide his arm around the man's slender waist and draw him near. Brian didn't resist as their lips came together. They kissed hard, moving towards the desk. With a sweep of his hand, Trevor cleared the top and Brian pressed against it, sat on the edge, and allowed Trevor to ease him onto his back. It was only as Trevor unzipped his jeans that he came to his senses and pushed the sculptor's hands away. "I can't do this."

"Brian--"

He got to his feet and zipped his pants. "I can't."

Trevor watched him stagger from the office, cursing his luck, and hoping that he'd get another chance someday. He hadn't imagined it. Brian had wanted him. If only for a moment. 

 

As he turned, Brian opened the door and crossed the floor in two steps, pulled him off his stool and kissed him. The man was half hard already. Trying to catch his tongue as it darted inside his mouth, Justin unzipped Brian's jeans and drew out his cock. Rubbed it through his underwear from balls to tip. Impatient, wanting Justin more than he had thought possible at that moment, Brian pushed down his pants and underwear. Threw off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. Letting Brian go, Justin stripped as well, Went back to stroking Brian's dick but Brian wanted him now. Digging into his jacket, he found a condom and some lube. With his back against the door, Brian sat on the floor of the studio and encased his cock in latex. Lubed it and held it upright by the base. Justin stood over him, and gripping the doorframe, lowered himself onto the rigid column of flesh. Brian pushed a finger up into him to spread him open and then his cock followed suit. Justin squeezed his eyes shut as Brian's dick forced its way inside. God, he was so tight and Brian was so big, even with the lube he felt like he was being split in two. At last, most of Brian's cock was inside him and he could breathe again. Slowly, he worked his hole up and down his lover's shaft, just a little bit at a time. Slowly, he adjusted until he could take all of Brian inside him without wincing. And then the pain vanished and all he felt was pleasure.

Stretching his arms out behind him and raising up on his feet, Brian thrust his cock up into Justin hard, causing the teen to rise with each motion. Justin moaned and reached down to cup Brian's balls, his fingers brushing over the man's hole. Brian hissed and Justin ran his finger over the wrinkled lips again. "Oh, God," groaned Brian as Justin first wet his finger and then pushed it inside his asshole. His thigh muscles bulged with the task of supporting their combined weight and he didn't know how much longer he could maintain the position but the feel of Justin's finger sliding between his lips made him want to stay like this forever. At last, he felt his legs begin to tremble, and he sat back down on the floor and held on to Justin's hips as the teen fucked his cock. He ran his hands over Justin's torso, feeling the teenager's muscles clench beneath his palms as he kissed his back and shoulders. There was no one better, no one better than his little boy. No one made him feel like this, no one. Screwing up his face, Brian gave a shout and came. Justin continued to ride him through his climax, pressing down and squeezing his hole around Brian's throbbing cock, milking him dry.

His orgasm over, Brian took hold of Justin's meat and stroked him, fingers wet from the generous amount of precum that flowed from the tip. "Oh, God, Brian... Brian..." Justin moaned as his lover's fist flew up and down his shaft, his balls bouncing with each jerk. Brian's hand tightened around the head of his dick and he cried out, feeling his cock expand and spit. Spunk squirted from the tip to land on the floor between their open thighs. He slumped in Brian's arms as the man persisted in stroking him, coaxing the very last drops of cum from his still-swollen cock. 

 

"Pardon me, excuse me," Em said as he whirled by Brian and ducked into the kitchen.

"What's with Julia Child?"

"Jeff's coming over and Emmett said he'd cook dinner. You staying?"

Brian noted that his was a last-minute invitation but he decided to overlook the slight. "I've got stuff to do."

"So what's up?" Michael asked, fluffing one of the many multi-colored pillows thrown on the couch.

"Nothing." Brian always felt like he was inside a funhouse when he came over to Mikey's place: claustrophobic, over-stimulated, and a little nauseous. "Just thought I'd drop by."

"Put out the cinnamon placements and napkins," Em ordered. "We're having curry," as if that explained everything.

" 'kay." Michael paused. "You know, we never see each other anymore."

"We saw each other at breakfast yesterday."

"You know what I mean. We used to talk for hours. Remember that?"

He did. They had. About everything.

"I guess it's like you said: we can't spend our entire fucking lives together," Michael commented, checking to see if the dimmer switch worked on the lamp by the sofa.

Brian remembered telling him that, as they'd sat together in the steam room at the gym, angry because he knew Deb would blame him for Michael and David breaking up, cause maybe it was his fault, and he hadn't been looking forward to the lecture he'd get from her and Lindsay and everybody else. So he'd said that hurtful thing to Michael, not really meaning it, the way he had said so many things. Now he swallowed the hurt and agreed. "I guess." Stood. "I gotta go."

"Everything okay?" Michael asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"Couldn't be better."

Emmett peeped out of the kitchen. "Would you get the placemats out already?" 

 

Closing the door, he looked around the loft. With its muted colors and tasteful furniture, it could have been a featured apartment in _Architectural Digest._ Understated, elegant, and spacious. So much space... Enough for thoughts to get lost in: he was forever finding pieces of himself lying around in odd places, odd reminders of ideas he'd once had, grandiose plans. So much space...

And silence. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, he could hear himself breathe in the quiet. In the silence that refused to be filled by either the stereo or the television. And then the phone rang. "Yeah." He paused and stretched out on the bed. "Hey, baby..." 

Justin was just putting away the last of his laundry when Deb called him. "Sunshine!" _What was she screaming about?_ he wondered. He and Brian had made up but they still weren't back to where they'd been before the Kip revelation and that quiet storm that had blown up so suddenly on Wednesday was a reminder that things were still a little strained between them. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with whatever it was Deb wanted. What he wanted was to put away his stuff and hit the studio for a couple of hours and then call Brian to see if he should come over tonight or wait until tomorrow. But, dutifully, he jogged downstairs to see what Deb wanted and stopped on the bottom step. A guy stood in the living room with a suit bag over his arm. He was also holding a bouquet of miniature white Calla lilies and a small box containing what Justin supposed was a boutonniere. Deb looked up at Justin. "It's for you."

"For me?" He stepped down from the staircase into the living room.

"For you, sir," said the man, handing Justin first the flowers, then the suit bag. Then an envelope.

Deb looked from Justin's face to the letter. "Well? Don't just stand there like Hillary Clinton at a bake sale, open it up."

Handing her the flowers, he unsealed the envelope. Read it.

"Out loud," she prompted.

"Mr. Justin Taylor, your presence is requested at seven o'clock sharp for an evening of fine dining, dancing, and romance at the home of Mr. Brian Kinney. Please RSVP." He looked up, eyes glittering.

"Well, RSVP already," urged Deb.

"Oh." He turned to the delivery man and dug in his pocket for a tip.

"It's all right, sir. And your answer, sir?"

"He'll be there even if I have to carry him myself." She added, "On my back."

Smiling helplessly, Justin replied, "Tell him yes. I'll be there." As Deb showed the delivery guy to the door, Justin opened the suit bag. Inside was a tuxedo. Checked the label the way Brian had taught him. A Perry Ellis black tuxedo with a midnight blue vest and tie. Running his hand over the silky material, Justin couldn't believe his eyes. Couldn't believe what had just happened. Was going to happen. Brian still loved him. Hadn't forgotten him.

As she returned to put the flowers in some water, she patted him on the arm. "You'd better go get ready. It'll be seven soon. And you know how Brian hates to wait." 

 

At seven sharp he walked through the door of the loft. Wearing the boutonniere on his lapel. Instead of combing his hair back, he'd left it as he normally wore it, bangs over his forehead. It made him look boyish. Which Brian had told him on many occasions was a good thing. "My little boy," he'd say and kiss him passionately.

Brian was at the table, pouring two glasses of champagne. He looked amazing in an Armani tuxedo that was the twin of the one Russell Crowe had worn to the Oscars, with an Edwardian-style, knee-length jacket and a simple black ribbon around his collar. Justin imagined tugging on the end of the ribbon and watching it unknot. The thought made his mouth water. As if he'd been privy to his lover's thoughts, Brian carried the flutes of champagne over to where Justin stood and handed him one. "To us," he said softly, lips full and rosy.

"To us." They took a sip of the champagne, then set the glasses aside.

Brian reached for the remote and switched on the stereo. Slipped his arm around Justin's waist. The teen moved in closer and took his hand as the music began.

Accompanied only by a piano, the singer's voice guided them slowly across the floor. Instead of putting out votives, Brian had strung tiny white lights throughout the apartment, so that it seemed as if all of the sky could be found in the loft. Looking over Brian's shoulder at the real stars, Justin found that he preferred the ones inside the apartment. And then Brian smiled and he lost all interest in celestial phenomena, real or artificial. I want to give my all.../ Baby, just hold me/ Simply control me/ Because your arms/ They keep away the lonelies... He could hardly breathe, listening to the words of the song, Brian's words. How could he have ever believed that Brian had tired of him, that he had something to fear from his relationship with Michael or anyone else for that matter? Cause I never felt this way about lovin'/ Never felt so good/ Baby, never felt this way about lovin'/ It feels so good.

Lowering his head, Brian pressed his lips gently against Justin's and felt the teen's fingers slide around his neck. By the time they parted, they were both breathing a little faster and his collar was unbuttoned and slightly askew. Fixing it, he smiled. "Maybe we should eat."

Justin couldn't take his eyes off his lips, a delicate shade of raspberry and swollen ever so slightly, like perfectly ripe fruit.

"Justin?"

"Yeah." He agreed. To what, he had no idea. But he followed Brian to the table and sat while the older man went into the kitchen and returned with appetizers. Seeing them, he asked, "Another free ad for your friend?"

"Yep. The last one's up for an award."

"You're kidding?"

Brian placed two plates of Bruschetta with spinach, black olives, fresh tomato, and Sicilian ricotta on the table. "There are two things I never kid about: menswear and advertising." He sat across from Justin. "Everything else is fair game."

Over appetizers they reminisced about the meal they'd had the night they'd first made love and, of course, that led to a discussion about the first meal they'd ever had together: the jambalaya Justin had fixed after he'd moved in with Brian.

"It wasn't bad," Brian conceded. "But you're a much better cook now."

"I was kind of nervous," Justin admitted. "I wanted everything to be perfect and it turned out to be a complete disaster."

With a grimace, Brian confessed, "I guess I had something to do with that."

Justin snickered. "Something to do with it? That's a vast understatement." He cocked his head. "I wonder what happened to that guy?"

Shrugging, Brian said, "Never thought about it. I guess he went back to Atlanta."

"Do you ever think about what would have happened if I hadn't come looking for you at Babylon that night after we first met?" Justin asked, not looking directly at Brian. "If I had listened to you and forgot about you?"

"I used to," Brian said. "Especially when I was pissed off at you." He chuckled and shook his head. "But not anymore," he added softly and Justin reached across the table and took his hand. They sat like that, just holding hands and stealing glances at one another across the candlelight, and then Brian smiled ruefully and pulled free. "I think dinner's ready."

Heart racing a little, he was glad of the opportunity to escape for a moment. Taking the salmon from the oven where it had been cooking, he plated the fish and spooned the pine nut and scallion butter over it. Removed the green beans from the steamer and arranged them tastefully.

"You want some help?"

"I got it."

Justin pronounced the fish to be perfectly cooked and Brian took a little bow from his seat although he admitted that Tony's directions had been explicit and he'd followed them to the letter.

"Did you get Cynthia to help you this time?" he asked, taking in the pale tapers and the White Anthurium centerpiece that graced the table. The last time they'd had a romantic dinner, Brian's secretary had picked out the flowers and the music.

"I did it all." Smiled and held out his hands, indicating the decorations. "Well?"

The light from the candles flickered over his face, illuminating his smile, and Justin replied, "It's perfect."

As they finished dinner, Brian asked, "Dessert?"

Justin shook his head. "Dance with me."

So they danced, Justin's head on Brian's shoulder, enjoying the music, not needing to talk or to look into one another's eyes, the mere fact that they were together enough to satisfy them. And then Brian tilted Justin's face upwards and kissed him. "I love you." Justin ran his fingers through the fine hair at the nape of Brian's neck and urged him to kiss him again, which he did. Lips pressed to the side of Justin's mouth, Brian whispered fiercely, "I love you."

"I love you."

Drawing away, Brian held Justin's face in his hands and brushed his finger over his lips.

"What?" asked Justin.

"I..." He closed his eyes momentarily then opened them, looked into Justin's eyes. "I want you..."

"I'm here," said Justin and he touched his face to reassure him that he was right there.

"I want you to come and live with me."

>i>Holy shit… Justin swallowed, "I thought—"

"I want you to live with me. And it's not because I'm afraid of losing you or because I think I can protect you. It's because I love you." And he said it again. "I love you. And I want you with me. I want to fall asleep with your arm around me and I want to wake up with you next to me. And I don't care that you're in school--you can have your twinkie friends over for study groups, I don't care. And I don't care if you're at work or in your studio six nights a week until midnight. I'll wait. And I won't complain." Justin laughed, breaking the tension. "Much," amended Brian. "But I can deal with all of that. As long as I have you with me, I can deal with it."

Throat constricted, Justin forced himself to ask, "You think you can deal with having my stuff in your space?"

Brian took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom and opened the bottom two compartments in the chest where Justin's things already occupied the top three drawers. They were empty. He opened the storage cabinet closest to the chest of drawers. It too was empty. Gestured at the closet. "Go look." Justin checked. Brian had made room in there as well. "And in the bathroom. And the kitchen. And at my desk, and in the bookcase, and the TV cabinet--" Justin rushed back to him and Brian took him in his arms, held him tight. He could feel Justin's heart racing. Or maybe it was his own. He didn't know anymore. "Think that's enough?" he asked, suddenly afraid that Justin would say, 'No,' and he didn't have any idea how he would go on from this moment if he did. But Justin smiled so brightly there was no need of any other illumination in the room and he dared to hope. "Does that mean yes?"

"Yes," Justin replied softly. He laughed and wiped his eyes.

"Allergies?"

"Yeah."

Brian kissed his cheeks, wetting his lips with Justin's tears. "We'll have to do something about that." 

 

It was like coming together for the first time, in this apartment that was suddenly their home, in a bed that was suddenly their bed. Nothing had changed and, yet, everything had.

Slipping off their shoes and jackets, they moved into one another's arms again, as if they couldn't bear to be apart for longer than a few seconds. Justin took hold of one of the ends of Brian's ribbon tie and pulled. It came loose as he had imagined it would. "Put it somewhere safe," Brian told him. "We might need it later."

Justin eased his lover's shirt from his shoulders, having slowly undone all of the buttons, gradually revealing his smooth chest and firm belly. He ran his hand over Brian's skin and marveled at its softness in contrast to the hard muscle beneath. "I love touching you," he told him.

In between long, leisurely kisses, they shed their clothes. No rush, no hurry. Guided by the teen's soft sighs, Brian explored every inch of Justin's body, rediscovering hidden pleasures. "You're so beautiful," he whispered as his tongue traveled along Justin's inner thigh and Justin drew him up for another kiss, lingering about his lips and chin, his neck and throat. "My beautiful baby..."

Turning Brian over onto his belly, Justin brushed his lips across his shoulders, down his spine, between his buttocks, along the backs of his thighs, in the hollow behind his knees, over his calves, and around his ankles. Miles and miles of man and all his.

Brian rolled onto his back and pulled Justin atop him. And they kissed, bodies fit so tightly together that it was almost impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. Raising his leg, Brian hooked his heel behind Justin's thigh and ground his groin against the teen's. They were both so hard. Justin spread his legs and supported himself on his hands, worked his stiff cock against Brian's. Arched his back, his hip muscles flexed, round and high. Brian cupped his buttocks, palms tickled by the fine blond hairs that covered them.

They'd both begun to leak, bellies and groins streaked with sticky liquid. Wanting to slow it down a little, they parted, lay breathing heavily next to one another. When their chests had stopped rising as quickly, they came together again and Justin encircled Brian's cock with his hand. Stroked him as they kissed, spreading precum along the length of him. Pulling away, Justin began to move towards Brian's groin. Brian reached for a condom to hand him and Justin shook his head.

"Baby..."

"I trust you." He lowered his head and licked a bead of precum from the tip of Brian's penis. Heard his lover sigh. Again his tongue snaked from between his lips. Over and over he lapped the swollen head until he hungered for more. He kissed the tip, feeling for the opening with his tongue.

"Oh!" cried Brian, digging his fingers into Justin's hair.

The teen slowly opened his lips around the head of Brian's cock and listened as the man panted, held him down as he inched his way over the bulbous cap, down the rigid shaft, down to the base where his lips were tickled by his lover's lush, brown bush.

His entire body tingled as his baby sucked him off. His asshole tensed each time Justin reached either end of his course.

With ease, Justin slid up and down his shaft, aided not only by his own saliva but also by the copious amount of precum that flowed from his man's cock. Releasing Brian, Justin rubbed his hard-on against his cheeks, his lips, his chin until they shone.

"Oh, baby..."

Justin moved, knelt astride Brian's chest. Pressed down on his erection. A strand of precum stretched from the tip of his penis. Brian opened his mouth and caught it on his tongue. Pulled Justin closer and closed his lips around the cap of his cock. The teen moaned as Brian drew him in deeper and deeper, tongue swirling about the sensitive area sending ripples of pleasure outwards from Justin's groin. Switching positions, Justin laying on his back and Brian crouching between his legs, the two lovers descending deeper into the depths of pleasure until Justin's moans echoed throughout the apartment. And the more he moaned, the harder Brian worked to make him moan even louder until there was no corner of the loft which was not filled with the sound.

Justin slipped from between his lips. Giving the head a final kiss, Brian lifted the teen's legs onto his shoulders. Placed the moist tip of his cock against Justin's hole. Rubbed the wrinkled lips until they were coated with precum. Pushed and felt Justin give. The teenager gasped and gripped the back of Brian's neck as the man leaned over him. Again, Brian pushed and Justin opened wider. "Oh, God!" he shouted and Brian paused. "Don't, don't--I want it. I want..." Brian kissed him hard and pushed even harder. Justin cried out and Brian slid all the way in. Moisture ran from the corner of Justin's eye. Chest heaving, he whispered, "Yes, yes, yes..." as if assuring himself that he had taken him all. But he could feel Brian, from the tip of his cock to the base, filling him up. Trembling, he prepared himself for the inevitable withdrawal.

Slowly, Brian retreated, his cock slithering along the tight tunnel of Justin's asshole, still dripping precum, providing further lubrication so that the next foray might be less traumatic. Soon, after a couple more strokes, he was gliding in and out with ease and Justin was writhing beneath him in ecstasy instead of pain. God, Justin's hole was so hot, so tight, so good to be in, to poke, to prod, to fuck. The boy's muscles gripped him as he tried to withdraw, like a fist around his cock, pumping him. As they moved, he could feel Justin's cock against his belly, hard, wet, the head sliding through the precum and sweat on his skin. "Don't come yet," he said and Justin grabbed his dick and pressed down on the spot just at the base of his cock. But it was hard, so hard not to come, not to pull on his dick and release the spunk that had built up in his balls.

"I wanna come," he whispered.

"Not yet. I want to taste you," Brian told him and Justin groaned and kept up the pressure. Knowing that it wouldn't be much longer before Justin reached the point where he couldn't hold back, Brian increased the intensity of his strokes, increased the frequency with which he thrust. It was like a furnace inside of Justin and Brian wanted to be immolated in his heat. Burying his cock in the teen's ass, Brian grunted, his teeth clenched, and shuddered.

Although he couldn't feel Brian's cum splashing against the walls of his hole, he did feel his cock expand, filling every empty space inside him. He felt it throb and swell, felt Brian's balls press against his ass. And then Brian lowered his head, mouth open, breathing hard. Justin kissed the side of his face, tasting his sweat.

Sliding free of Justin, Brian moved down the bed until his head was between his lover's thighs. Holding them in his hands, he licked Justin's hole, dripping wet with cum, with his cum. Cum that had spilled over the edges of the boy's gaping lips. Cum that ran down between his cheeks. He licked Justin clean, listening to the tiny cries the teenager gave, and then he went down on him again.

Cock sliding over Brian's tongue, asshole still tingling from its bath and from being fucked, Justin grabbed handfuls of the sheet in his fists. Arched his back and fought not to scream but it was so hard because he was so hard and Brian was furiously sucking him, his cheeks hollowed, applying as much pressure as he could. And he could still feel Brian inside him, still feel his dick pounding his ass, still feel his tongue slipping into his open hole to lap up that last bit of cum. Tendons in his neck and the backs of his thighs like iron, Justin gave a shout and came in Brian's mouth.

Sweet juice struck the back of his mouth and dripped down his throat. Swallowing as best he could around Justin's cock, Brian gave him another hard suck and was rewarded with yet another slitful of thick, pearly jizm. Moaning around the teen's dick, Brian licked the pulsating shaft and waited for the next spasm to deposit more spunk in his mouth. Brian released him and licked around the head of his cock. A last few drops surged from the opening and ran over the head to hang from the edge. Spreading his lips over the tip, Brian lapped it up.

His vision hazy, Justin watched as cum trickled from the corner of his lover's mouth. Absurdly, as if it were a mystery to unravel, he wondered whose. It might have been his, or Brian's, or a combination of the two. He didn't know. Then Brian kissed him, smearing their faces, their lips, passing it from his tongue to Justin's, and it no longer mattered, if it ever did. 

 

In the silence that had come with the passage of midnight, Brian could hear himself and Justin breathe and the sound gently rocked him to sleep. 

 

Daphne and Justin sat next to the pool in the backyard of her parents' house. It felt kind of strange to be in the old neighborhood, to see the house and know that it belonged to someone else now, that his old room was someone else's new room. And then he remembered that he had a new room, his and Brian's room in his and Brian's apartment, their home, and he smiled to himself, not wanting to tell Daphne, not just yet. Better to wait and see how things went f irst.

"I missed you yesterday," she said finally, after they had sat a while.

Justin had opted not to hang out with her and Xavier and Rennie yesterday and had, instead, stayed with Brian and made love all day. Which he didn't mind at all. Still, he pretended to have been miffed and said in a bitchy tone, "I'm surprised you even noticed."

"Now you know how I felt about you and Brian."

She had a point. "I guess. So how was it?"

"How was what?"

He couldn't believe she was playing coy. "Rennie told me."

Her face went red. "He told Rennie?"

"He tells her everything." Justin paused. "Kind of way you used to tell me stuff."

"I still do."

"Not this."

She didn't try to deny it. "It's just that--well, Xavier told me you'd been acting kind of weird about us. So I figured maybe you didn't want to know."

If she were going to be honest, so would he. "Maybe."

"You're like part of this couple now and I guess I wanted to be part of something too. Like we used to be."

As he listened to her and remembered how he'd felt when he thought he'd been replaced, he began to understand how Brian must have felt when Michael and David first got together. Angry and sad and a little afraid. "We'll always be best friends, no matter what," he said and he wondered how many times Michael had said that to Brian. "I guess I was a little upset cause you were spending time with Xavier and calling him and not calling me."

She smiled softly. "Friends?"

"Friends." Leaning over, he kissed her shyly on the cheek then smiled. "So how was it?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Well... It was okay."

"But what? Wasn't he any good?"

"I guess but... It didn't seem like he really wanted to be with me."

"I don't get it. Why would he ask you if he didn't want you?"

"I kind of asked him." She ducked her head.

"What is with you asking guys to sleep with you?" Of course, he conveniently forgot how he had pursued Brian shamelessly.

"You gotta go after what you want."

"You sound like Brian."

She beamed. "I do. Anyway, it's funny cause being with Xavier was sorta like being with you."

"With me?"

"Yeah. I mean, you were good and all but I could tell you didn't want to be with me. Not really. That what you really wanted was to be with Brian."

Totally confused, Justin asked, "You think Xavier wants to be with Rennie?"

Daphne gave him a look like he was the world's biggest idiot. "No. I think Xavier wants to be with you." 

 

Knocking first, Justin pushed open the door to Xavier's studio. Saw his friend squatting down examining the base of what would eventually become his new piece. "You're here."

Xavier ran his hand over the wood, then reached for a piece of chalk and scribbled a couple of cryptic notes on the surface. "Yeah."

Although Xavier seemed busy, he hadn't asked him to leave so Justin took a seat. "Saw Daphne."

"And?"

"And she's gone back to Princeton." He watched his friend carefully for any hints as to how he felt about her leaving.

"Uh-huh."

"She said you guys decided not to go out anymore."

Xavier stood and faced Justin. "What else did she tell you?"

He chuckled. "A lot of stuff. She talks... You know."

The other teen grinned. "Yeah, she does."

Although it felt good to see Xavier smile and as much as he longed for things to go back to the way they had been, he couldn't leave things as they stood, especially with Daphne's comments lurking between them. So he took the plunge. "She told me she thinks you're gay." He waited, preparing for the worst. But Xavier just laid his chalk on the table.

"I'm not."

Only there was something about the way he didn't look at Justin that convinced him that there was more to it. He asked, "You ever sleep with a girl before Daphne?"

"Yeah."

Justin studied Xavier's face, noting the strong features, the broad nostrils and forehead, the high cheekbones and full lips. Nowhere in his face did it say 'Liar,' and Justin believed him. Only, he wasn't foolish enough to leave it at that so he asked, "Have you ever slept with a guy?" Xavier lowered his eyes and didn't answer. "Xavier?" Justin stood and walked closer to him, close enough to see the faint rose color in his cheeks. "Have you?"

And Xavier looked at Justin, his warm brown eyes shiny. "Yeah." His chest rose and fell. "I have." 

 

"Never Felt This Way" written by Brian McKnight, published by Cancelled Lunch Music/Universal Polygram International Publishing Inc. (ASCAP); performed by Alicia Keys from the album _Songs in A Minor,_ J-Records, 2001.


	14. Closer to Something Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin moves in with Brian.

_Me, I keep watching from the corner of my eye  
Looking for some reason I should run   
I know you don't have your answers either, baby,   
But at least you know that you can really love someone_

 

"You what?" He could still hear Michael's question ringing in his ears. In fact, it had been everyone's question. No one, not even Lindz, had believed him when he'd told them the latest. But, he thought, grinning from ear to ear, his arms weighed down with a crate of art books, they'll believe me now.

The loft was a mess. But a controlled and organized mess. Luckily for him, Jennifer still had an empty room and a basement at her townhouse where Justin could leave some of his stuff. Only the things he loved the most and couldn't do without did he bring to Brian's. Good thing they had curious friends. Together with the guys, and the Munchers, and Xavier and Rennie, and Deb and Vic, the two lovers made quick work of moving Justin's belongings up to the loft from the U-Haul. Granted, it was one of the small tow trailers and not a van or a truck, but it was enough and when they were done, the drafted workmen plopped down around the apartment and gazed in amazement at the sight of Brian and Justin amidst the boxes, smiling like village idiots. Brian knew that's what they all thought, that he and Justin were in over their heads and completely unprepared for the rigors of cohabitation. Even Michael had given him a lecture on how hard it was to merge two lives and make a home together and he'd dutifully listened while making a mental note to look into getting a Kohler storage case for the bathroom and maybe having an overhead pots and pans rack installed in the kitchen. Of course, the ideal solution would be to sell the loft and find a bigger place, maybe even go shopping for a house but he really couldn't see himself cutting grass or planting rose bushes and he didn't think he could afford both a cleaning lady and a gardener. Especially since he was paying for everything. Not that he minded. He was just being realistic. He'd definitely have to cut back on his designer menswear purchases if he got a house and he shuddered at the thought. He liked looking good. It was vanity but he could afford it. Besides, he thought of it as helping to beautify the world. Or, at least, fuckin' ugly Pittsburgh.

"All right," announced Deb. "What's next?"

He peered at her. "You go home?" he suggested hopefully.

"Uh-uh," she replied, shaking her head. "We want payment for all our hard work." He waited. "We want food."

So he ordered Chinese take-out and threw the Jeep keys to Justin who left with Xavier and Rennie to pick it up. After they'd gone, Michael looked at him, astonished. "You let him drive the Jeep without you?"

"Mel and Lindz let him baby-sit Gus, I figure the Jeep's in good hands." No one said anything because they all knew how much he loved his Jeep and he added, "Trust me, he knows if he gets a scratch on it, I'll kill him."

"When's his mom coming over?" asked Em.

"Tomorrow. Dinner. She's bringing his little sister."

"Least Molly's not as bad as Claire," Michael pointed out.

Mel groaned, remembering the scene at Jack's funeral fiasco. "No one is as bad as that meshuggener."

Lindz frowned. "Mel," she scolded.

Brian held up his beer in tribute to Mel. "It's true. She's a total cunt."

All the women said at once, "Brian!"

From where he sat holding Gus between his knees, Vic asked, "Any more info on Justin's friend, Xavier?"

"Justin thinks he's bi but…"

"But what?"

He thought a moment. "There's something else. I just don't know what."

Ted asked the obvious. "You think he's got a thing for Justin?"

"Definitely. But it won't do him any good. Justin's mine." Brian waited while Gus got away from Vic and then tottered over to his papa. "Isn't that right, Gus? Pooh's mine, isn't he?"

The baby looked around, calling, "Pooh!"

Face aglow, Deb exclaimed, "Oh! That is too precious."

Emmett cackled. "So if Justin's Pooh, does that make you Christopher Robin? Or Piglet? I could never figure that out in the stories."

"Maybe they were part of some kinky menage a trois," suggested Ted.

Lindsay covered her face, laughing. "Oh, stop it. I'll never be able to read The House at Pooh Corner again."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Personally, I like Tigger. But Tiggers don't like honey and I love honey." He said slowly, seductively, "Sweet… sticky… and straight from the source. Dripping down from-"

"Would you stop it?" she cried, laughing harder than ever and Brian licked his lips. "You are so nasty."

He held Gus up. "I can't wait until you start dating. The things I could teach you."

Mel rolled her eyes. "Just what the world needs: two Brian Kinneys."

"You can never get too much of a good thing."

Deb patted him on his arm as she went past him to the fridge to find some fizzy. "Tell me that about six weeks from now," and he knew exactly what she was talking about. They all did.

Justin and Company returned with the food and everyone grabbed chopsticks and dug in, careful not to spill anything on the furniture, especially the sofa. Brian and Justin tried to be good hosts and not throw everybody out so they could be alone but their friends knew how anxious they were to have their place to themselves and they hurried and finished eating in record time. Deb and Vic headed out with Xavier and Rennie; Ted, Em, and Michael left together; and Lindz and Mel, with Gus wobbling in front, took off too leaving the two men alone at last.

Brian embraced Justin from behind and whispered, "Where did you pack the vibrator I bought you?"

"I don't know."

Releasing him, Brian grabbed one of Justin's art books and flipped through it. "Too bad. I thought we could play."

Justin went over and took the book away from him. Dropped it back in the crate. "We don't need it. Trust me." He waited until Brian lowered his head for a kiss to say softly, "I love you."

"Do you?" Brian leaned back against the table.

"Yeah."

"Maybe I need proof."

Justin drew Brian's tee-shirt over his head, then unsnapped all of the buttons on his jeans and eased them down. Took hold of his cock and tugged on it until Brian's hard-on pressed against his underwear and a wet spot appeared. Pulling the briefs down, Justin got to his knees and looked up at his lover. Wrapped his hand around the base of Brian's dick and angled it down. Kissed the tip. By the time he'd finished licking the head like a lollipop, Brian was dripping wet and Justin was in heaven. As each new bead of pre-cum appeared, Justin bided his time until the bead became a strand and stretched towards the floor before sticking out his tongue and lapping it up, the clear liquid sometimes missing his mouth and falling on his face and neck and chest. Soon he was wet with Brian's juice and hungry for more.

Then the buzzer sounded.

"Oh, fuck," groaned Brian.

"Maybe they'll go away," Justin said, licking pre-cum from the corner of his mouth and hoping they would because he was far from done with Brian's cock.

The buzzer sounded again.

Brian pulled away from Justin, kicked off his pants and underwear, and went to answer the door, his erection leading the way. "What?" he grumbled, a lot harsher than he'd intended. He took a deep breath and asked again, this time less antagonistic. "What?"

"It's Xavier. I left something upstairs."

"Yeah. Hold on." He let the teenager into the building and went to find his robe. Justin met Brian with the black silk garment and closed it around him. Tied the belt, feeling his dick in the process. Brian moaned. "That's not helping."

Justin had managed to strip and put on his robe as well. He rubbed his groin against Brian's thigh, the front of his robe falling open and his cock peeping out. "I hope it won't take long."

Giving him a quick kiss, Brian said, "Count on it." He opened the door to the loft just as Xavier arrived.

Looking sheepish, Xavier entered the apartment and went to where he'd been sitting. There was his bag. "I don't know how I forgot this."

"Me neither," Brian agreed. "Now, if you don't mind…"

Attempting not to show that he'd noticed their raging hard-ons, Xavier said goodbye and left. Justin nearly cracked up.

Brian dropped off his robe and waited for Justin to come to him. The teen pushed him back against the column and stroked him until his hand became wet. Then he raised it and licked the pre-cum from his palm and fingers. "Mmmm…" Took off his robe and got on his knees. Brian sighed as the teen went down on him, sucking his swollen cock until he thought his nuts would explode. Justin sucked them as well and slowly let go of each one, Brian's balls slipping from his mouth wet and shiny and flushed. Pressing down on Brian's dick, he released it and watched it slap against his belly hard, pre-cum flung on both their skins. Brian moaned and gripped the column behind him as Justin repeated the motion twice more. "Fuck," he whispered and drew Justin up for a kiss, rubbing his dick against the teenager's belly, feeling Justin's erection slide between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and lifted him. Justin gripped him between his knees and crossed his feet behind Brian's back. Held onto the man's shoulders and raised up. Positioning his cock at the opening of Justin's anus, Brian pushed up and Justin pushed down and he entered him. Joined like this, he carried Justin to the door and leaned the teen against it.

The cool metal of the door contrasted sharply with the feel of Brian's hot flesh as it thrust up inside him. Holding onto his lover's broad shoulders, Justin didn't attempt to do anything more than to just hang on and enjoy the ride, head bumping against the door softly at first and then harder as they continued. His cock was trapped between their bodies and the muscles of Brian's stomach provided a nice ridged surface for it work against as his man pumped his hole. They kissed as they fucked, mouths open and wet, saliva smearing their faces. Justin sucked Brian's tongue until the ad exec pulled away, breathing hard, and moaned. Justin felt his cock swell inside his asshole and he clamped down on it, fighting to keep Brian in place as the man came. But Brian continued to pump his hole, precum and sweat and mucus making it hard for Justin to get a grip on him with his muscles. Cum dripped from Justin's hole down the length of Brian's shaft and over his balls. Without touching his cock, Justin came between them, spunk splattering their bellies and chests, one squirt reaching Brian's chin to hang from his skin until Justin wiped it away and sucked it off his finger.

They didn't bother to shower, just wet a cloth and cleaned up a little, and fell into bed. The afternoon was only half over and the evening was still so far away… 

 

"Do you have any pictures of the loft?"

"Yeah. I took some one day when I was bored."

"You should take some pictures of it now while I'm moving in and then after we're done. Before, during, and after."

Not really caring one way or the other, Brian replied, "Um hmm," which was what he said when he didn't really care one way or the other.

And Justin knew it. He got up and grabbed Brian by the hand and pulled him from the bed. "Come on, while I get something to eat."

Not bothering to say the obvious, which was that they'd just eaten, Brian went and got the camera from on top the desk. He couldn't imagine what it was going to cost to feed Justin on a full-time basis. Maybe Jen would appear once a month with one of those magical checks. Somehow he doubted it. They were officially a couple and, as such, were responsible for one another. He guessed he'd have to cut back on clothes shopping after all. And it would have chaffed him except that he turned and saw Justin, naked, bending over to get something from a box and, distracted from his thoughts as usual by the sight, snapped a picture of his perfect ass. Justin stood upright and looked over his shoulder. "Pictures of the loft," he reminded him.

"That was my ass."

"You're in the loft," he explained as he crossed to the teen. Justin moved into his arms.

"You sure about this?"

"Too late now. You're here. And your stuff's here. No turning back, remember?" But he said it in such a way as to let Justin know that he wouldn't have it any other way.

Justin kissed him, nuzzling the smooth skin at the base of his throat then went to check on the roasted chicken he'd found in the refrigerator. Not wanting it cold, he'd popped it into the microwave whose timer had just gone off. "You want some?" he asked as Brian continued to document the moving-in process.

"Nope." He wished now he'd gotten a few shots of the guys carrying in stuff, and he shook his head. What the fuck? Pictures of friends… Looking around, he wondered where they'd put Justin's pictures and then he remembered the sketch he'd bought at the art show. How would he explain it to Justin? What it had meant at the time, why he'd bought it after repeatedly telling Justin that he meant nothing to him. Why had he bought the sketch? He'd been flattered, sure, but that wasn't all. Flattered and impressed with Justin's skill. Impressed by the artist himself and not willing to admit it right then to anyone. Yet he hadn't been able to hide it from himself and he'd purchased the sketch and stared at it while the guy from the comic book store gave him the world's worst blow job and he'd been dissatisfied and angry and disappointed and more than a little bitter that things had turned out that way, that he'd made it impossible for him to ask Justin to come home with him and, surprise of surprises, the teen hadn't asked him. So he'd lain there hoping the guy would bring him off and go.

Now, Justin's body coming into view again, he put down his camera and went to the closet and removed the print and the portfolio he'd put it in. He brought it out and laid it on the table and opened it up. Justin, carrying a chicken sandwich on a plate, came to investigate. "What's that…" Stared at the sketch. "You bought it?"

"Yeah," he replied, not sure if Justin would bitch at him or not.

"You never said anything." Brian shook his head. No, he hadn't. "Why not?"

"I don't know." And Justin put down his plate and came to him and hugged him and Brian tightened his arms around his little boy and laid his cheek against his soft, blond hair because of all the people who claimed they understood him, Justin was the only one who understood that when he said he didn't know what he really meant was that there was too much to explain. 

 

They sat on the sofa and ate, Justin having cut his sandwich in two halves, and planned where they would hang the sketch and Justin's other work and where the pictures that Brian had taken would go.

And Justin asked him, "Are you sure my stuff won't mess up your color scheme?"

"What color scheme? Everything's either black or white."

"That's what I mean."

"I guess the place could stand a little brightening up." He paused. "Just, no rainbow flags okay?"

Justin laughed. "Okay."

Unlike Justin, Brian's appetite was an unpredictable thing so as soon as he'd taken a couple of bites out of his sandwich, he found that he wasn't really hungry. Pushing his half over to Justin, he settled down with his beer and asked as casually as he could, "So what are you going to do about Xavier?"

"What about him?"

Brian studied the teen to see if he was being sincere or playing him and decided he was dodging the issue. "About the fact that he's got a hard-on for you."

"That isn't true," replied Justin when, in fact, he knew that it was true. He'd known ever since he and Xavier had talked in the studio. He hadn't pushed his friend to say anything more after his confession but he'd known that there was more. A lot more. He just wasn't sure if wanted to hear it.

"Justin," Brian began, his voice even and low, "what do you think? That I blame you?"

And maybe he did because of the way he'd taken to Xavier and hung out with Xavier as a Daphne surrogate and maybe he'd done something or said something to make him think there was a possibility of them starting something. He didn't know. He was just too confused about the whole thing. And Xavier still hadn't said anything to him about it, still hadn't even admitted that he was bi, just that he'd slept with a guy before. "I don't know what to think about anything."

"Well, I don't. I know from first-hand experience that you can't control how someone feels about you." He grinned and Justin pushed him. Stuck out his tongue. And Brian leaned into him and kissed him and gently sucked on the tip. Pulled away. "Mmmm, mustard."

After they'd finished eating, they unpacked Justin's books and added them to the bookcase by the chaise lounge. Decided maybe the sketch could go there as well. Interfiled his CDs with Brian's collection.

"How will we know which ones are yours and which ones are mine?"

"Planning on leaving so soon are we?"

"You know what I mean."

Brian picked up Justin's copy of an 'N Sync CD and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think it'll be a problem." He looked around. "I don't know where we're gonna put the art supplies."

"I can take most of it to school," Justin said shrugging.

"Maybe we can put up a couple shelves."

Not committing to anything, Justin said, "Maybe."

Then they turned to the teenager's prodigious wardrobe. "Do you actually wear all this?" Brian asked and Justin gave him a look. "I have to keep up with the seasons," Brian said in answer to his unasked question.

An hour later they'd succeeded in putting away most of Justin's clothes except for a few sweaters that Justin said he rarely wore. Brian emptied out a drawer in one of the other two chest of drawers, one of the two he'd reserved for his own clothes. Justin hesitated. "You sure?"

Brian took the sweaters from him and put them in the drawers himself. "All done?"

"All done," smiled Justin.

"Good. I'm bushed." He fell back on the bed and Justin crawled next to him, slipping his hand inside Brian's robe and stroking his chest.

He leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you." And Brian drew him over on top of him and held him. "Do you think…?" he began to ask and then stopped. "Nothing."

Brian turned onto his side so that they faced one another. "Do I think what?"

Figuring Brian wouldn't let it go, he finished his thought. "Do you think that we'll ever have a house like Mel and Lindsay?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe after you graduate and get a job."

A frown appeared on his face. "I'm probably never going to make as much money as you."

"You don't know. You might be the next David Hockney."

Looking in surprise at Brian, Justin asked, "What do you know about David Hockney?" although he shouldn't have been shocked. Brian knew a lot more than he let on about a lot of things.

"Saw a show once. Pretty good. If you're into pastels."

"And pretty boys," added Justin.

"And pretty boys."

"I think I'm more like Lucian Freud," he said and this time he didn't expect Brian to know who that was. Most people didn't unless they were really into art. When Brian showed no name recognition, he explained, "He was a painter. Hung out with Francis Bacon."

"Oh."

"Bacon even did a portrait of him."

"You're not going to paint in here, are you?"

Justin raised up on one elbow. "Why?" he asked, thinking Brian would object on the grounds that his beautiful-and expensive-Italian furniture might be imperiled.

But he replied, "The smell. Makes me queasy. I hated helping my old man paint the house."

Despite the possibility that Brian might actually be sensitive to the paint fumes, Justin believed it probably had more to do with his father. "No. I'm not really good at it. Besides, that's what the studio's for."

Justin's reassurances aside, Brian still felt a little bad. After all, it was their place now. "Maybe if you opened all the windows…"

The teenager grinned. "Will the real Brian Kinney please get in bed with me?"

"What?"

"You're being mighty accommodating."

"Don't worry. It won't last." Brian reached over and got his cigarettes. "You mind?" Justin shook his head. "Good." Lit one and took a puff. "So, what would your dream house look like?"

Justin pondered the question. "It'd have a studio with big windows to let in lots of sunlight. Maybe a skylight in the ceiling too. And a master bedroom suite with a huge bathroom and a sunken tub so we could take baths together."

"Among other things."

"Among other things," agreed Justin. "And there'd be a room for Gus. And a room for our other kid."

Brian paused in the act of raising his cigarette. "What other kid?"

"The one I would have with Daphne."

Amused, he asked, "You think she'd do it?"

"She loves me."

He laughed. "Awfully sure of yourself, little boy."

Justin smirked. "That's cause I'm loveable."

Not addressing that comment, he asked instead, "And you would raise him?"

"Or her," he pointed out quite reasonably. "We both would."

Musing over the idea, Brian said, "You and me, raising a kid. You'd have to be a successful artist then."

"Why?"

"You'd be the stay-at-home dad."

Justin took Brian's cigarette and inhaled briefly. "Why me?"

And Brian retrieved his cigarette and leaned back against the pillows. "We do want this kid to survive to adulthood, don't we?"

"You'd actually do it? Have a kid with me?"

"Hypothetically, yes." He stubbed out his cigarette. "But maybe we'd better get a dog first. See how that goes."

Justin punched him in the arm and then curled up in his arms. "Nope. Didn't last long at all," he said. "What about you? What would your dream house look like?"

Brian's face took on a sober cast. "Nothing like my parents' house, that's for sure."

"No," Justin said firmly. "We're not talking about them. We're talking about you and your dream house. So what would it look like?"

He looked around. "This used to be my dream place."

"And it's beautiful," said Justin.

"Yeah, but Lindsay says it's not bright enough, not enough bright colors for Gus. She says he needs bright colors to stimulate him. I don't know. Seems pretty stimulated to me. I told her I think I should repaint the loft a color that sedates kids." He paused. "She was not amused."

"You would do that? Repaint the loft for Gus?"

Brian replied, "The place could use redecorating. It's been this way since I moved in. Styles change."

"And people," added Justin and he kissed Brian on the chest and laid his head upon his torso. 

 

After a brief rest and a little fooling around, they unpacked Justin's toiletries and decided to take a shower. Brian opened a bottle of the shampoo Justin had brought with him and sniffed it. Smelled slightly botanical. Squirting some on the teen's head, he worked it into a lather and shampooed his little boy's hair.

Justin couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Brian would wash his hair, couldn't believe how turned-on he was getting in the process. How turned on they were both getting.

Hands sliding down over the teen's chest and belly, Brian lathered the sparse hair on both areas, then continued to his groin where the hair grew thick, luxuriant. Ran his hands over the boy's buttocks which were covered in a fine down, and fingered his hole with its wispy strands that tickled his lips when he rimmed him.

Opening up around the probing digit, Justin leaned against the wet wall of the shower and slowly worked his hips back and forth, his slippery lips sliding over Brian's soapy index finger.

The man removed his finger and pulled down the shower head, extending the hose to its fullest length. Then, parting Justin's buttocks, he sprayed warm water over his hole.

Gasping as thousands of tiny fingers played over his ass, Justin couldn't believe he'd never experienced this before. Brian changed the setting and the water sprayed over him in a series of steady pulses. Justin cried out and bit his lip as his lover brought the shower head closer to his asshole. His cock was hard as steel. Brian held the shower head directly against his hole and Justin began to shout as the needles of water massaged his hole and his lips began to spasm in response. Drawing the shower head away, Brian sprayed his balls and then turned him around and gave his dick the same treatment. By the time he was done, Justin was begging him to fuck him. Hanging up the shower head, Brian made him promise to stay put. He disappeared for a moment, then returned. Holding a seven-inch latex cock. It was shiny with lube and slid up his hole with ease. As the water beat down upon them, Brian's flexed his muscles and worked the dildo in and out of his little boy's hole, listening to the teenager moan and gasp. Then Brian flipped the switch on the base of the dildo and Justin gave a shout. Burying it deep inside him, Brian held it in place and watched as the boy's entire body shook. Kneeling at Justin's feet, Brian turned him around so that he faced the teenager's cock. One hand on the dildo to keep it tight against Justin's hole, Brian began licking his meat. Jerking as the toy vibrated against his prostate, Justin shrieked when Brian's mouth closed around the head of his cock and the man began to suck him off. It didn't take much for the teen to dump his load. Brian pulled back and the boy's cum splashed on his face to be washed away by the warm water showering down upon them. 

 

Laying in bed, completely satiated, Justin asked, "Is it always gonna be like this?"

"Like what?" asked Brian even though he knew what the teenager meant.

"Perfect, like this."

And Brian shook his head. "Nope. We're gonna fight like cats and dogs, and scream at each other, and storm out, and be ready to kill each other. If we're lucky. But I would rather fight with you and then make up than be bored. Than to come home every night and have everything be perfect. I'd rather miss a few meals than to have you here every night to fix dinner. I'd rather go to bed horny one or two nights a week than to be sick of you."

"Then," said Justin, grinning, "in that case, I'll be sure to hold out on you at least two or three times a week."

"I said one or two."

Looking at the clock, Justin said, "It's almost over."

"What?"

"Our first day of living together." Both hands were almost in sync over the number twelve.

Brian glanced at the clock face. "Then it's just starting," he said.

"What?"

"Our second day of living together."

Sliding over on top of Brian, Justin kissed him hard. "Happy Second Day."

Time to celebrate. 

 

The next morning Brian went out in the hallway to get the paper and laughed out loud. From the kitchen where he was putting on the coffee, Justin asked, "What?"

Brian brought in the paper and laid it on the counter. Showed Justin the note that had been taped to the door. Read, " 'Dear Mr. Kinney, Perhaps you should look into soundproofing your apartment. Or charging admission. Thomas Bailey, Building Superintendent.' " Laughing, he opened the paper to see what had happened in the world.

Blushing a deep red, Justin went back to fixing the coffee and hoped his face would stop burning by the time it was ready--and that he never had the occasion to meet the sharp-eared Mr. Bailey. 

_I see you kneeling in the garden  
Closer now to something real and true_

 

"From the Station" written by Marc Cohen, _The Rainy Season,_ Wea/Atlantic, 1993.


	15. The Legend of Bountiful Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some pre-Halloween fun with Bountiful Bottom.   
> A transitional story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written with significant contrabutions from Kym. Please note: Any legal inaccuracies and mistakes are due to my misunderstanding her very excellent advice. :-)

Brian had been acting like a total shit all week and everyone, including the Boy Wonder, was sick of it. He refused to even consider attending Emmett's Halloween Drag Queen Ball saying he had "no intention of dressing up as a belle with balls;" and he absolutely turned Lindsay down cold to go trick or treating with Gus telling her he'd leave that to them and they could "munch on candy corn instead of each other, which oughta taste better." He even told Justin in no uncertain terms that he was not going to IFA's Costume Ball unless he went "as someone who has lost his fucking mind." By Thursday they were all ready to kick his ass. But good. Justin didn't know what was up with him but even offering Brian his favorite meal--perfectly aged filet mignon, rare and bloody--prepared and served by a gorgeous, young, naked chef had failed to jolt him from his bad mood.

The weekend over—thankfully—it was only on Tuesday morning, as they dressed for their meeting with Keisha Thomas, the Assistant DA assigned to Justin's case, that he realized why Brian had been such a bear. They had met with her once before so that she could ask them preliminary questions about their testimony and to outline the strategy she'd use as of that point in time. Of course, plans changed. As she interviewed witnesses in the case, she made alterations, hence the meeting: to bring them up to date and to lay out a plan of action for the last few remaining weeks before the trial.

Watching Brian knot his tie, Justin touched him gently on the hip to get his attention, and smiled. Returning it, Brian said nothing. He knew that usually the teen didn't want anything in particular, he just liked touching the older man. At first, when they had initially started "seeing each other," it had thrown him a little, that a touch on the arm or hand could be that important to Justin and it had taken a while for him to get used to it. Now, those little touches were a part of who they were together, a part of their relationship.

But today Justin did want something. Only, he didn't know how to ask for it. To ask Brian to relax and not to get upset about the trial and this meeting. He was so tense already that he'd even turned down Justin's offer of a little sunrise play time. As Brian finished with his tie and reached for his jacket, Justin said his name.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He glanced down at his chest. "This isn't one of my favorite ties though."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"You didn't eat anything." The man said nothing. "Are you--"

"I'm sure." And he got that pinched look on his face which let Justin know that he didn't want to talk about it anymore. So, despite his misgivings, Justin dropped the subject. Grabbing his briefcase from atop the desk, Brian said, "We should get going."

All during the ride to the courthouse, Brian seemed preoccupied, saying very little except to answer direct questions. But before they got out of the Jeep, he leaned over and kissed Justin. Then, in silence, they made their way to Keisha's office in the Crimes Persons Unit.

"Mr. Taylor, Mr. Kinney, " she said in welcome, "have a seat."

"You can call me Justin." He felt weird having someone call him Mr. Taylor now that he'd graduated from high school. He used to hate it when teachers called him that. It had always sounded slightly condescending.

"All right." She glanced at Brian.

"I don't care. I've even gotten used to Melanie calling me Asshole."

The tips of Justin's ears began to burn. "Brian..."

"I think I'll stick with Brian. And you can call me Keisha."

"Now that we know who we are..." began Brian.

"I wanted to let you know what's going on, where we are, and what's going to be happening in the next few weeks. Since this is your first involvement with a felony trial, I just wanted to prep you on what to expect. First off, I want to warn you about the press. I know you've had some experience with them," Brian's expression darkened, "but it's going to get much worse. I don't want you talking to the media. At all. Nothing. Not even a hello. I don't want them to be able to quote you saying, 'God bless you,' if someone sneezes. And I do mean any member of the press. Including Michael's boyfriend."

At that, Justin looked surprised. "How did you find out?"

Brian answered, "I told her."

"But I thought you liked Jeff." They'd gone out with Michael and Jeff a couple of times since Michael had begun seeing the reporter on a regular--and exclusive--basis.

"He hasn't done anything to me. But he's a reporter. There's no point in being naive about it."

Keisha caught Justin's eye. "Brian's right. It may be a coincidence and it may be something else entirely. So stay away from him."

Justin asked, "How? Michael is Brian's best friend and Jeff is Michael's boyfriend. How are we supposed to avoid him?"

"I don't know. Just do it."

"Fine," said Brian, bringing the discussion about Jeff to a close. "What else?"

"I still think our best strategy is to show that Chris Hobbs had a history of perpetrating violence against Justin and threatening him."

Although he doubted it, Justin asked anyway, "Were you able to get any of the kids from St. James to testify?"

"I'm working on it."

Justin had a strong feeling she could be pretty persuasive when she wanted to be. She kind of reminded him of a cross between Xavier and Daphne. A pretty potent combination.

"We'd have a strong case even if we only had Daphne's and Brian's testimony. But I won't lie to you, we've got a couple of problems to overcome."

Brian focused his gaze on the nameplate on her desk. "Me and Justin, and the fact that there's twelve years between us."

"That isn't true," Justin protested.

"Yeah, it is."

"He's right, Justin. There are a lot of people out there who won't like that you're in a homosexual relationship with a thirty-year-old man—"

"Your father, your mother, my mother, my boss," listed Brian.

Keisha picked up where she'd been interrupted, "And it could influence both the jury's decision and the judge's ruling."

"So much for justice," Brian muttered.

"I'm not losing this case," Keisha assured him.

"Then you're saying what?" asked Justin.

"That he might be convicted of a lesser charge or he might get a lighter sentence."

Brian stood, anger suffusing his features. "Fuck!"

Laying a hand on Brian's arm, Justin looked up at his lover with worry in his eyes. Brian sat back down.

She waited until he'd calmed down some before continuing. "That's another thing. You've got to control your temper. You've got every right to be angry, you just can't get angry. Not in court. Save it until you get home. Bite your lip and swallow it. In that courtroom, you've got to be charming, cool, calm, and collected."

"Fine."

Neither Keisha nor Justin bought that for a moment. "Look, I've got a temper too. But in court you'd never know it. We have to use our heads about this. I know it's a bitch to have to cater to the jury, and the judge, and the press, and the public but we have to. I don't want to give them any reason not to like you and, more importantly, not to like Justin. I want them to love him, to want to protect him, the same way you do because if they don't, Chris Hobbs could very well leave that courtroom having gotten a slap on the wrist. And I don't think any of us want that."

"I understand," he said, greatly subdued in tone.

Their meeting having lasted over an hour and a half, the two men left the courthouse and went in search of lunch. It was just about 11:30 and since he hadn't eaten any breakfast, Brian was starving. Justin, well, it didn't really matter. Hungry or not, he could eat. The problem was where. They couldn't go to the diner because Michael and Jeff might show up. Of course, it really wasn't a big problem as Pittsburgh had its share of restaurants, so they picked one and went in for a long, leisurely lunch. Brian had informed Cynthia days in advance that he would only be in half a day and he'd reminded her yesterday in case she or Ryder forgot. Justin had submitted excused absences' slips for each of his classes a week ago, as soon as Keisha had scheduled the meeting, so he was free until the afternoon as well.

Settling on a cozy, rather dark Italian restaurant lit only with natural sunlight and a few strategically placed candles, they appeared to be in for a surprisingly romantic meal in the middle of the day. Seated in a booth in an otherwise empty section, Brian's libido seemed to have returned. Hazel eyes smoldering in the half-light, he seduced his young lover with a sly smile. Justin blushed and tried to study his menu but the feel of Brian's unshod foot rubbing against his calf distracted him. Not really wanting to, but feeling he had to say something before the manager came and threw them out, Justin ordered Brian to stop and to put his shoe back on. The foot retreated only to be replaced by a slender hand wandering across the table to stroke the teen's fingers. Justin raised Brian's hand to his lips and kissed it, his tongue straying over the man's knuckles. Whispered, "Let's go home and eat."

That Brian didn't get a speeding ticket on their mad dash home was a miracle. They were partially undressed by the time they reached the sixth floor. Justin stepped out of his pants and picked them and his shirt up from the floor of the elevator. Although Brian still had on all of his clothes, everything was open: his shirt, the front of his trousers, and his underwear through which Justin had eased out his cock to stroke it as they kissed.

Stumbling into the loft, they barely paused to shut the door and then somehow made it into the bedroom before succumbing entirely.

Designer suit tossed on the floor along side Justin's chinos, the couple sighed as they kissed, bare skin against bare skin, warm and flushed with excitement. The teen lay on this back, arms and legs wrapped around his lover's long, lean body. He loved the feel of Brian moving on top of him, the hard muscles working in tandem with the soft lips and the smooth skin to bring him pleasure. He uttered little cries as Brian's mouth closed around his nipple and his tongue flicked over the tip until it stiffened. Then the action was repeated with the head of his cock with the very same results, except that the volume and frequency of his cries increased. Lips wet, shiny with precum, Brian raised the teen's legs and nuzzled his hole and the cries grew louder, throatier as his tongue teased the delicate flesh. "That's it, baby," he whispered between licks. Wanting more, he got to his knees and raised Justin's lower body from the bed, his legs falling back over his chest, buttocks spread open, pink hole inviting, intoxicating. Brian buried his face between his cheeks and plowed inside until they were both unbearably aroused.

Over on all fours, Brian kneeling behind him, Justin felt light-headed, giddy as his lover steadily fucked his ass. From the first whirlwind moments of foreplay, they had slowed things down until now, when seemingly the sense of urgency would be at its greatest, they moved as if underwater, their actions deliberate and unhurried.

Afterwards, so as not to pass out at work from hunger, Brian did eat the pasta they'd brought home from the restaurant. However, it was a little difficult to eat with his arms full of boy. Justin lay against him in bed so he had to put the bowl on the night stand and reach over to entwine the linguine on his fork. Of course, he had to feed Justin as well. Like a papa bird and his chick, he let the strands hang from his mouth and watched as the boy consumed them, their lips meeting in the middle. By the time they'd finished the bowl, they were hot and bothered all over again. Brian eased Justin onto his back. "Wait," he said, and then the ad exec called his office. "Yeah, it's taking longer than I expected." He grinned. "Another hour." Justin spread his thighs and held up his cock. "Or longer. I'll see you when I get there." Dipping his fingers in the remaining sauce, Brian painted the boy's meat tomato red. "Sometimes linguine just won't do it. You need something thicker."

As Brian's mouth engulfed him, Justin smiled and buried his hands in his lover's hair. 

 

When he did finally put in an appearance at work, Mikey called wanting to know if he and Justin were up for team pool at Woody's. "Who's on the teams?"

"You and the Boy Wonder, Emmett and Ted, and me and Jeff."

"Can't." It'd be easier not to talk about the case if they didn't see Jeff at all.

"What's up?"

There was no point in getting into it now. "Nothing."

"Well, what about dinner tomorrow night?"

"Mikey—"

"What? What is it? Are you avoiding me?"

At least he could answer that semi-honestly. "No." He hoped his friend would leave it at that but he should have known.

"Then what is it?" Brian didn't answer. "Brian?"

Michael would worry at him and worry at him if he didn't just spit it out so why prolong the agony? "It's Jeff."

"Look, I thought you and he—"

"Keisha—"

"Who?"

"The Assistant DA."

"Yeah." They'd met.

"She doesn't want us talking to the press."

"So don't talk about the case."

"Mikey, it's not just that."

"Then what?"

"He could write about us, about what we do when we go out, who we talk to, how we are together. All of that could influence potential jurors. And the judge. And the public."

"I can get him to drop the story. Give it to someone else."

Brian shook his head although Michael couldn't see it. "Really? You think he'd give up one of the biggest stories of the year for you?"

"You think he wouldn't?"

"Does he love you?"

He could see Mikey shrugging. "Maybe."

"Not good enough. Because I do love Justin and I'm not doing anything to screw this up for him."

"So what? You gonna avoid me too?"

"Mikey—"

"Don't Mikey me. You don't trust me? Is that it? You think I'm so gullible, so naive and stupid that I'd pick a total asshole to be with? That I couldn't tell if someone was using me?"

Instead of telling him the entire truth, he settled for the most palatable part. "I can't risk it, Michael. For Justin's sake."

"Fine. I hope you're happy together."

"Don't--" Michael hung up. "Fuck." He lowered the phone. "Fuck!"

Cynthia poked her head in the doorway. "You rang?"

The rest of the day went downhill from there. He had to stay late to try and play catch-up from the missed morning hours and the longer he stayed in his office, the angrier he got at the world. When five o'clock came and Cynthia left, he was tempted to chuck it all in and go home but if he didn't make some headway on this new account, he'd be up shit creek when the trial began and he didn't have time to do emergency damage control. So he had to do as much as he could up front. He didn't know when he'd get out of there tonight. Luckily, Justin called to say he'd be late as well, had to do a lot of work on his Halloween project for design class. And, again, he took the opportunity to pester Brian about going to Emmett's party or to the IFA party and again he turned him down cold. Brian could feel the chill in the air when the teen hung up. But he was in no mood to give a shit. Although he knew Mikey and he would eventually patch things up, he hated it when they fought. Despite having Justin and knowing that he could share things with him that he couldn't with anyone else, Brian still needed Michael, still missed him when they were apart. 

 

Justin knew that Xavier was outside the studio door. He'd heard his footsteps coming down the hall and knew it was him without seeing him. Sure enough, there was a small knock and then the door pushed open and Xavier came inside and closed it behind him. "Hey," he said, hanging back.

"Hey." Justin cleared his stuff off the other stool on his side of the room and Xavier took the hint and sat. "You figure out how to get the food coloring inside the egg yet?" Part of Xavier's Halloween project involved eggs with black yolks.

Xavier smiled broadly. "I got a pin and kept tapping the shell until I made a hole, and then I gradually made it bigger and bigger, and then I took a pipette and piped in the food coloring."

"What'd you put over the hole?"

"Hot wax."

"Sweet." Justin couldn't believe how inventive Xavier was. It was like he could figure out anything. He could have easily been an engineer but instead he wanted to be an artist. Which was lucky for the world. There were plenty of engineers and not enough really good artists and Xavier was really good. Justin often thought he was probably wasting his time with school: Xavier could have started working straight out of high school and been a success but he was glad his friend had decided to come. IFA would have been a lot less fun if he hadn't. A lot less complicated too, he thought. "You coming to the party?"

Rapping on the wooden seat on the stool, Xavier shrugged. "Guess. You?"

"I don't know." He put away the modeling clay he was using. "Brian doesn't want to come."

"So? Come without him," he said and immediately he felt his pulse increase. Xavier hoped Justin didn't read anything into it. Although there was plenty of subtext there.

Clay stowed in its box, Justin found a cloth and wiped the residue from his hands. It made it easier when he washed them if most of the clay was gone, plus the smell faded faster. Brian swore he could smell it on him no matter how many times he washed his hands. "I like doing things with him." Sometimes. The last thing he wanted was to get into a discussion of Xavier's unspoken feelings for him. If his comment had been a slip-up, then he was willing to let it go.

So was Xavier apparently. "Yeah, I guess that what happens when you're a couple. Get Together-itis."

"And Pain-in-the-Ass-itis." It was only after he had spoken that Justin realized what he'd said. Face red, he busied himself with gathering his colored pencils and putting them back in their plastic case.

Xavier laughed. "TMI, J. TMI." Too much information.

So Justin laughed too. "That's not what I meant." He wiped his eyes. "I can't believe I said that."

"Look," Xavier said as they were walking out of the studio, "come with me and Rennie to the party if Brian bails. It'll be fun. Least you'd get to see your design in place." Their Halloween design projects were going to be used as decoration at the party. "You don't have to stay long. See the set pieces, have some punch, and then you can hurry home to hubby."

"He is not my hubby," Justin protested.

"If the shackles fit...."

And Justin's eyes twinkled. "How did you know he had shackles? Handcuffs too." When Xavier blushed, the Boy Wonder cracked up. "You wanna go eat?"

Saying yes, Xavier tried hard not to stare at Justin's ass as the teen walked ahead of him to see if Rennie was in her studio and wanted to come. Ever since his confession to Justin about having slept with another guy, Xavier hadn't known what to do with his growing feelings for his new friend. He thought about him all the time, about that smile that seemed to well up from someplace deep inside him. No matter how homesick he was or down in the mouth, just seeing Justin smile picked him up and made him glad to be alive, as goofy as that sounded. He didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have that smile to look forward to. So he'd kept it on the down low, as always, and tried to act as if everything was normal. Only, it wasn't.

He even dreamt about Justin, about what it would be like to make love to him, the way Brian made love to him. He'd left his bag at the loft on purpose the day they'd helped Justin move in, wanting to go back, knowing that they'd barely been able to wait until the last person was out the door before getting busy. But seeing them in their robes, their erections prominent, hearing them breathe heavily, he'd been confronted with the reality of their fucking and it had unnerved him a little and he'd leaned against the wall of the stairwell for a few moments before heading down, trying to get his bearings.

What made it worse was that Justin knew that he liked him, was aware of his interest. He hadn't been able to hide it entirely, but they were both making an concerted effort not to acknowledge it, to pretend that everything was okay between them, that nothing had changed. Whether Justin had any interest in him, he didn't know. Not that it mattered. He didn't have a chance. Not compared to someone like Brian. Fuck, even he thought Brian was hot. Not his type, too aggressive, too edgy for his tastes, but beautiful, there was no denying that. And Justin worshipped him. Loved him so much you could see it in his eyes whenever he thought about Brian. He didn't even have to say his name and you knew he was turning some image of his lover over in his mind. So what chance did he have? None. So why the fuck was he wasting his time dreaming about something he could never have?

Because he couldn't help it. Because Justin had gotten into his system like a virus and he hadn't found the right antidote yet. Hadn't even bothered to seek one out. He welcomed the burning desire and hoped that, eventually, he would be completely consumed and there would be nothing left for love--or lust--to ignite.

Saying something to Rennie, Justin turned his head and smiled at Xavier and the hunger flared up again. 

 

 

By Thursday, Justin felt as if he were in a rerun of last week, except that instead of being in a foul mood, Brian just seemed down. He claimed nothing was wrong but he wasn't himself. When Justin suggested they call the guys and do something, he nearly bit his head off and reminded him of what Keisha had said. So Justin knew part of the problem must have been Mikey, that they'd probably had words about Jeff and couldn't figure out a way to say they were sorry and to make up. And he was tired of playing peacemaker for two grown men. Let them deal with it. Only, they weren't dealing with it, and he was having to live with the consequences: an increasingly unbearable Brian.

So on Friday, while he was supposed to be working on his Halloween design project for class, he was busy fretting. With luck, Brian wouldn't be such a grouch when he got home tonight.

There was no such thing as luck. Except bad luck. Somehow the guys who did the mockups at the agency managed to mix up two sets of copy and no one caught the mistake until both clients called wanting to know if Brian had gone crazy or if he was trying to lose their business on purpose. Of course, Ryder called him into his office and chewed him out even though it wasn't his fault with the end result being that he had to personally supervise the construction of new mockups and send them back out before he was able to go home for the weekend. When he finally arrived at the loft around eight thirty, Justin could tell he was in a foul mood and he wished he'd taken Deb up on her offer to get in a few extra hours at the diner tonight. As he stood there with Brian's favorite black sweater in one hand and his pinstriped pants in the other, he felt curiously like a lamb brought to slaughter. But, instead of tearing into him, Brian only brushed by him and began taking off his clothes. "I'm going to bed," he grumbled.

"But it's only eight thirty, and you haven't eaten," Justin said before his better judgment told him to shut up.

Again, Brian said nothing except to repeat his former statement. "I'm going to bed."

Justin watched him hang up his suit and throw back the covers. Wearing only a snug pair of grey Jockeys, Brian crawled into bed and drew the sheet over him. Not knowing what to do, Justin put away the clothes he'd picked out for Brian and started to leave the room.

"I just had the day from hell. From the ninth circle of hell," Brian said quietly and a fleeting smile crossed Justin's face despite Brian's words. He stripped and snuggled up next to his man, one arm thrown possessively around his waist.

"What happened?" he asked and Brian told him the entire sob story from beginning to end, at which time Justin kissed him gently and said, "Maybe tomorrow'll be better."

Thinking that the teen was hinting at attending one of the two pre-Halloween events, Brian groaned, "Baby, I still don't want to—"

"I didn't say anything about either party," he clarified although both he and Brian knew he was disappointed.

Brian grimaced. "I'm just not into drag. I'm too tall, I've got no hips, and I can't wear heels."

Stroking one of Brian's nipples, Justin smiled softly and said, "I bet you'd make a beautiful woman. You could be a supermodel. They're tall."

"Six three and a half? The only supermodel that tall is RuPaul." He shook his head. "And I'm not going blonde, no matter what," he said with a trace of a smile about his lips.

"Then we could go to the Costume Ball at IFA," suggested Justin. "You could wear whatever you wanted."

"I'm just not in the mood, Justin," Brian said as gently as he could. "Maybe next year. Okay?"

Even though he wanted to pout, he didn't. He just tightened his hold on Brian and said, "Okay," in a tiny voice.

Lying there for a while longer, they got up and slipped on their robes and had dinner. Turned out Brian was hungry after all, just too pissed at the world in general to admit it at first. Having enjoyed twenty minutes of pampering by his baby, he was ready to put aside his anger and eat.

Sitting across from one another, they dined on thick minestrone soup that Justin had prepared himself. The nights were just getting cool enough that hot soup was comfort food again. In between spoonfuls, Brian asked, "So what would you go as?"

"Go where?"

"To the Costume Ball."

"A Wraeththu."

"A Ray what who?"

Justin smiled. "A Wraeththu. From these books by Storm Constantine. She's totally cool. Writes about this race of basically gay mutants who can have babies." Brian grimaced. "They're really supposed to be a third sex, not male or female, but they mostly act like gay guys. You can either be made a Wraeththu or be born a Wraeththu from two Wraeththu parents. They age but really, really slowly and they look young for the longest time. The main character in the three books is named Cal--Calanthe--and he actually was a gay man before he was changed."

Intrigued, Brian asked, "What's he like?"

And Justin pondered the question. To try and describe Cal was...well, hard. "He's really beautiful. Blond hair, blue almost purple eyes—"

Like the guy in Babylon that night, Brian thought.

"He can be a total asshole one minute and then the most charming person alive the next." As he spoke, Justin realized, That's Brian. "He's very seductive. Very sensual. And even though he looks like a man, he also has a feminine side. Supposedly the Wraeththu are made from the hardest parts of a woman and the softest parts of a man, which makes them a little cruel. Cal can be cruel at times but also really loving. He can have anyone he wants but he only wants Pellaz."

"Who's Pellaz?" If he recognized himself in Justin's words, Brian didn't let on.

"He's a human teenager Cal meets and initiates into the Wraeththu." Brian took a sip of wine. "And he's beautiful too. He's got long, dark hair and dark eyes, like a Native American but you can't tell if the books take place in an America way in the future or in a fantasy world because the map looks different but they used to have cars and cities and the same kinds of things we have now. Anyway, Pell is only fifteen when they meet—"

"How old is Cal?"

"I can't remember. Thirty? But he only looks maybe twenty, if that much."

"Fuck. Where do I sign up?"

Smiling, Justin continued to describe Pellaz. "Pell is very naive about the world and about himself when he meets Cal and Cal teaches him how to survive and how to be strong." He reached for Brian's hand. "They fall in love and then something happens to Pellaz." As he said the words, he wanted to take them back. Brian would ask what happened and he'd have to tell him. It was so like their story.

"What happens to him?"

Justin rubbed his finger over the backs of Brian's knuckles. "He's killed." The older man looked over at him, his attention focused on Justin, his eyes narrowed. Thinking about Chris Hobbs and the parking garage. So the teenager added quickly, "But he's reborn. And he becomes the leader of their race."

"What about Cal?"

"Eventually he and Pellaz reunite and they become the rulers of the Wraeththu together because Cal was always supposed to be part of Pellaz's life; they'e like two parts of a whole, like light and shadow."

Having finished his soup, Brian sat back and continued to sip his wine. "You have the books here?" Justin nodded. "Maybe I'll take a look."

Amazed that Brian would even listen to him talk about the books, much less admit to wanting to read them, Justin swallowed the last spoonful of his minestrone and rose to clear the table. But Brian took his hand and drew him down upon his lap. Cupped his face and kissed him.

"Thanks, baby."

After they cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, Brian announced that he was tired and didn't feel like going out tonight. So Justin hunted for the TV Guide and checked to see what was on. Nothing he wanted to see but when he mentioned some old science fiction movie called Logan's Run, Brian perked up. "When does it start?"

"Fifteen minutes ago."

Brian found the remote and turned to the channel it was one, then dropped to the floor in front of the sofa. Justin stretched out on the couch and, in between watching the film, stroked Brian's hair, running his fingers through the brown and auburn locks, marveling at how soft they were. He remembered sitting on the sofa next to Brian once and stroking his hair when he'd been trying to figure out what to do about Guillaume's plans to marry Lindsay and adopt Gus. Remembered how tense Brian had been, pulling away, unable to take comfort from Justin's presence. Things had changed so much. Now Brian sat watching the film, periodically reaching for his wineglass, content to lean against the sofa's edge, content to have Justin touching him. In their place.

He still couldn't believe it sometimes, that his dream had come true. It had been a little over a year ago when he'd first told Daphne that he was gonna live with Brian and be with him and even though it had taken longer and by a more circuitous route than he could have expected, here he was. With Brian. In their apartment. Everything was perfect. Or would be except that he knew Brian was lying to him. The mix-up at work probably didn't do anything to improve his mood but something had been bothering him all week and Justin wanted to know what. Letting Brian watch his movie and finish his wine, Justin decided that he'd bring it up after the film was over, before they went to bed. Maybe the movie and the wine would have settled him enough that he could talk about whatever it was. Justin hoped so.

When Logan's Run was finally done, Brian switched over to CNN to check on the progress of America's New War and then flipped off the TV. Figuring there was no time like the present, Justin broached the subject. "Did something else happen at work this week?"

Brian didn't turn to face him. "Why?"

"You've been kind of..."

"An asshole?" suggested Brian.

"Uptight."

His shoulders rose and fell slowly. He said softly, "Yeah. I guess I have."

Justin slipped down next to him. "What?"

Still not looking over at Justin, Brian said, "A man came to see me at work. He was a writer. From this magazine that..." He paused and plucked at the edge of his robe. It had opened over his knee. "That caters to older men who go after teenagers."

Laying a hand upon Brian's bare knee, Justin said nothing.

"He'd read about us in the papers, read about the trial, and he wanted to make arrangements to interview me after everything was over. A fuckin' cover boy for a chickenhawk magazine." He took a deep breath. "I told him to get the hell out and he did but fuckin' Ryder found out from the receptionist and freaked out." Shook his head. "And then today's fiasco..."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't matter. Cause no one else is a key witness in an attempted murder trial at the moment. And no else's teenaged lover is the victim. And no one else is gay."

"That's not true."

"It might as well be. I might as well have a sign on my back that says, 'The Fag.' "

"I'm sorry." He'd always known that their relationship caused problems at work but every time something happened and Brian told him about it, he imagined how many times Brian probably endured some slight, some innuendo, and didn't tell him.

"It's not your fault. Baby—" He faced Justin then and took him in his arms. "I don't want to mess things up for you."

He was talking about the trial. "You won't. You'll keep your temper and you'll be so charming and so beautiful they won't know what to think."

"They'll think I'm some old perv. I'm thirty-years-old and, all of a sudden, I'm the older man."

"Don't worry. You don't look thirty."

"It won't matter. Because they'll all know. Every newspaper story, every news story has made sure to mention that I'm thirty and you're eighteen."

Offering Brian his words, Justin asked, "You care?" But he didn't expect Brian to respond with his answer, 'Fuck no.' And he didn't.

"I don't want to mess this up," Brian said again. "I want that little asshole to pay for what he did to you."

"He will."

"I don't want him to get off on some lesser charge or get probation."

"And you think your being thirty is gonna do that?"

"It won't help." Brian rubbed the back of his neck. "It's gonna be a fuckin' zoo. Ryder's already pissed beyond belief that I'm gonna miss work. And it's coming right at the time of the year when all the holiday ads are rolling out. I'm gonna have to work overtime every night for the next two weeks just to keep up. And everyday it's gonna be the same thing. Walking into that courtroom and seeing that smug sonofabitch and wanting to kill him. Dealing with the press, and the protestors, and the assholes who hate gay people, and the people who think that I'm some kind of a pedophile, and the demonstrators, and..." He looked down at his hands, then over at Justin. Reached for him and sighed as the teenager slipped into his embrace. He held Justin tightly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" asked Justin as they parted a little.

"Because I should be the one who's there for you, not the other way around."

"You are. We're there for each other." He laid his head against Brian's chest. "I don't want to be a symbol. I just want this to be over with so we can go back to being us."

Brian stroked his face, Justin's skin smooth beneath his fingers. "When this is over, we should go somewhere. Get away for the weekend. Someplace where they won't know who we are."

"Where's that?"

"I don't know." He paused and smiled. "Maybe Utah," he said, paraphrasing a quote from one of their favorite movies, _Raising Arizona_ and Justin laughed and straddled his waist. Kissed him, clearly wanting to initiate foreplay but Brian eased him away. "Baby, I'm tired," he offered as an excuse so Justin pretended to accept it and admitted, falsely, that he was a little tired too. "Tomorrow," he promised.

And Justin said, "I have to go to work and to the studio tomorrow."

"When you get back."

Getting to his feet, the teen held out his hand and pulled Brian from the floor. "Come on, old man. Let's get you to bed."

Only, once they were snug under the covers, Brian couldn't sleep. He just lay there holding Justin and waiting for him to drop off. When he finally did, Brian eased free of him and stared into the darkness. He didn't know what to do and he felt like he was going to explode. This had been a bitch of a week, what with Mikey and the mockup fiasco but it had been the visit from that sleazy writer that had put a bad taste in his mouth that he couldn't seem to wash clean. And it was only going to get worse. Much, much worse. And he'd have to take it, have to sit in court like some fuckin' paragon of virtue and be on his best behavior so no one could say Justin's boyfriend was an asshole on top of being a cradle-robber. He'd have to walk through the gauntlet of reporters and spectators every day and not say anything, not do anything, especially anything that would shed negative light on Justin. As if Justin had done something wrong, as if he weren't the victim, as if he were on trial. But the truth was, they were both going to be on trial. Which meant he had to keep it together, he had to keep cool and stay focused. Only, at this moment, he didn't know how he was going to do that. He had no fuckin' clue. Maybe I should call Drew, he thought and just thinking about talking to the therapist relaxed him enough that he was able to close his eyes and empty his mind. 

 

 

Waiting until Justin had gone to work, Brian called Drew's cellphone knowing he wouldn't be in his office on the weekend. The therapist answered, his voice thick with sleep. "Yeah?"

"Doc, it's ten o'clock."

"You can tell time after all." He had immediately become more alert upon hearing who it was. That Brian would call him at home... "Problem?"

Brian bit his lip, then asked, "You think I could maybe...come talk to you?"

"Today?"

"Yeah." He looked around the loft, as if afraid Justin would suddenly reappear from behind the couch or from out of the bedroom. "I kinda need to."

"Meet me at my office in an hour." 

True to his word, Drew was there when Brian arrived, radiating his habitual air of equanimity. He'd even pulled out the chair Brian usually sat in during their sessions. With a little smile, Brian took it and crossed his legs, waited for Drew to begin.

"So what's the problem?"

"Were you with someone?"

Drew cocked his head slightly to the right. "So. What's the problem?"

Hating even to say his name, Brian explained, "Chris Hobbs' trial is beginning in a few weeks."

"And...?"

"And I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind."

"Why?"

Brian looked away from Drew. "Because I'm so...angry."

"At who? At Chris Hobbs?"

He hesitated. "Yes."

Noting his hesitation, Drew asked, "And who else?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "No one."

Drew reached for a glass of water he'd set on a nearby table. "And maybe a little bit at Justin?"

He said nothing for the longest time and Drew let him sit there without interruption, the therapist quietly sipping his water and waiting. Finally, Brian said, "Maybe a little."

"Why?" Brian started to rise and Drew told him, "No. Stay here and talk to me. You got me out of my fucking bed at ten a.m. on a Saturday morning--out of a bed, in which I might add, I was not alone." He raised an eyebrow to match the look on Brian's face. "Why are you angry at Justin?"

"It doesn't make any sense," he said.

"I didn't ask you if it made sense or not, I asked you why."

"He didn't do anything!"

"Brian..."

"Because if he hadn't gotten hurt, there wouldn't be a trial." He looked down, unable to meet the therapist's eyes.

Offering him a way out, Drew said, "You mean, if Chris Hobbs hadn't attacked him, there wouldn't be a trial."

But Brian knew what he meant, no matter how horrible it sounded. "No." He raised his eyes, met Drew's. "I mean, if Justin hadn't gotten hurt."

And the psychologist ached for him because he knew how hard it had been for Brian to admit that.

"I know that it's not his fault. I know that, I'm not a complete idiot. I know that we had every right to be at that prom together and I wouldn't change a thing. Except maybe I would have gone with him in the first place. Except maybe he wouldn't have walked away from me, he would have been with me..." A tear rolled down his face.

"Brian...it's not your fault."

"I should have gone when he asked me." He closed his eyes and pursed his lips. "I never do the right thing. Never."

"Yes, you did. You went to the prom. It doesn't matter how late, what matters is that you went. And I'd bet Justin would say the same thing."

"If he had gotten into the Jeep with me, that asshole wouldn't have been able to hurt him and we wouldn't have to go through this. Our entire lives on the front fucking page. Everything I've ever done wrong, right there in black and white. And what's the biggest thing I've done wrong? To be with him in the first place." He stood then and Drew let him, stood and walked around the room where he and Justin had fought to save their relationship, where they had resolved their problems, made love right up against that wall. "If there were some way the firm could get rid of me right now, they would. But it wouldn't look good. The gay rights activists would be all over it. But I wouldn't even care. Because I am so tired of walking in there and seeing their faces, seeing the way they look at me. Like they've never done anything wrong in their lives. And it's not wrong! Being with him...it's the best thing that's ever happened to me." He hugged himself and stared out of the window.

"I bet if they tried to get rid of you, you'd give 'em hell, just to fuck with them." And Brian laughed abruptly. It was something he would have said. Before all this. "You're just a little worn down. It happens to the best of us. Even you."

"I have to keep it together. I have to do this for him. I can't let him down."

"You do this for yourself." Drew caught his eye and gestured with his head. Brian moved away from the window and returned to his chair. "I'm glad you called. I'm not glad you called in the middle of a very nice morning in bed but I'm glad you called."

"What am I gonna do? I can't go into that trial like this."

"Don't think about it so much."

Brian smirked. "Doc, we're talking about the real world here. How am I not gonna think about it?"

"I didn't say don't think about it. I said don't think about it so much. Listen, you can't change the way people view your relationship with Justin and you can't change what they think about you. So fuck em. And as far as you keeping it together, yeah, I don't want you going into that courtroom acting like a madman because it reflects badly on me." He smiled and so did Brian. "But if you do lose it, if you lose your temper and yell at someone or curse or do whatever it is you do so well, then so be it. You lose it. You lose it and you get over it and you move on. No one's gonna blame you for being angry. You deserve to be angry. It's a shitty thing that's happening to you, to the both of you, and I'd be pissed too. But you're not the ones on trial. He is. Chris Hobbs is the one who committed the crime, he's the one on trial."

But Brian disagreed. He said softly, "So are we." Paused. "I can't afford to be naive about this. Everyday people are gonna judge us by what we say and do, and they're not gonna care about the real us, about...about why we're together. They're only gonna see this thirty-year-old man with an eighteen-year-old boy. They're gonna read about my life, about the things I've done, and they're gonna wonder why he's with me. And they're gonna think that maybe he isn't the victim in all this, that maybe he asked for it somehow."

"That's bullshit."

"I can't afford to say that anymore. Because everything's changed. And it's not just my life. It's his."

"Maybe he doesn't care either."

"He'll care if Chris Hobbs walks." The thought chilled him. "If that psychopath goes free, he'll care. And he'll look around wondering what went wrong and he'll end up looking right at me."

"You can't make that assumption."

"Yeah, I can. Because it'll be true." He wiped at his eyes. "And there goes everything."

Drew started to laugh. "You are such a drama queen." Angry, Brian glared at him. "I sat in this office and watched Justin make some damn hard decisions so that you and he wouldn't fall apart and I don't think this is gonna do it. He's a lot smarter than that." He smiled softly. "And so are you. When you're not overreacting." Then added, "And overacting."

That got a laugh from Brian. "Fuck you."

"You and Justin break up and I might just take you up on that."

Brian smiled. "I don't intend to let him get away."

"I didn't think so."

"So what do I do?"

"You feel yourself starting to lose it, I want you to take some deep breaths and focus on something else, something calming. If you can go somewhere else, be by yourself for a while, do it. Okay?"

Brian grinned ruefully. "I'm gonna be crazy when this is over."

"What makes you think you're not already?" He laughed as Brian gave him the finger. "Look, the important thing to remember is that you can't control everything."

Brian thought about Justin saying to him, _"You can't control everyone's life. Even though you'd like to."_

"The most you can do is to try and control yourself. That's all. Let the world take care of the world. You can't solve every problem. This trial is something you can't control and the sooner you realize that the better."

"I know that, Doc."

"Really?" Drew raised an eyebrow. "So, I guess it wasn't you who just said that if Chris Hobbs walks, it would be his fault? That must have been someone else who looks suspiciously like you."

Smirking, Brian said, "Someone else should be so lucky."

Satisfied that the crisis had been averted, Drew stood. "Now, the sooner you leave, the sooner I can go home and pick up where I left off." He walked Brian through the reception area to the outer door. "You call me if you need me."

Devil-may-care smile in place, Brian said, "Thanks."

Drew shrugged. "I need a few success stories to talk about when I go to conferences." 

 

Justin still wasn't home when he got back so he pulled out his Mapplethorpe book and studied a couple of the pictures. They never failed to fascinate him. Then his email beeped. He had mail. Opened it and laughed when he saw who had written him. Bountiful Bottom. Read: "Bountiful Bottom ISO a Total Top for an evening of Halloween fun. Will bring my own bag of goodies. You up for a little trick or treating?"

Brian sat down, smiling from ear to ear, and whipped out a reply. "I'll be waiting."

When the buzzer sounded around six thirty, he nearly leapt out of his seat and ran to answer. Pressed the door release button and waited. Heard the elevator arrive. Then his guest knocked and he slid open the door to find a little blond devil holding a shoulder bag, with a raincoat slung over his arm. "Trick or treat."

Brian stepped back and let him in, rubbing his bottom lip. Fuck. Justin was wearing a harness, leather vest, leather jockstrap, and a pair of black knee high boots. The harness had two rings in front, one in the middle of his chest and a smaller one just over his navel. Three pairs of straps encircled his torso: the upper ones running back over his shoulders, the middle ones around his ribs, and the lower ones cinched tight around his slender waist. Another strap disappeared beneath his jock, so that Brian knew it was attached to a cockring which was snug around his dick. Over the harness he wore a leather vest that left his nipples and most of his chest exposed. It too was buckled tight around his torso, the entire ensemble emphasizing his voluptuous ass, stark white against the black straps of the jock. The tap tap of the teen's heels as he slowly crossed the hardwood floor sent currents of desire pulsing through Brian's body as did the sight of his plump buttocks sliding lazily against one another. Justin paused and turned, crooked his finger. Eagerly, Brian complied.

From out of his bag of goodies, Justin withdrew an outfit for Brian. With pleasure, he removed the clothes his lover was currently wearing and, with pride, he dressed his man from head to toe. First, standing behind Brian, he drew his cock and balls through a heavy metal ring and eased it into place. Took the opportunity to stroke his Brian's dick, but briefly. There'd be plenty of time to play. Later. The cockring on, he pulled a pair of black latex chaps up over Brian's slender yet muscular legs and belted them around his waist. They fit like a second skin. Next came the leather and chain-linked harness that criss-crossed his torso from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist.

Lastly, Justin removed a collar from his bag and held it in his hands. Which one of them would wear it?

Brian reached for the collar and opened it. Closed it around his own neck. His lips parted and there was a gleam in his eyes. 

He was situated where the chaise lounge used to be, arms tied behind his back with slender ropes. A lightweight chain was wrapped around his torso and the column behind him, the ends hooked together. There was very little give. In his current position, his legs spread apart, he felt very vulnerable. Justin stood in front of him with a black silk cloth in his hands. When Brian didn't object, he tied it around his eyes. With Brian's eyes covered, Justin removed another item from the bag: a ball gag. Settled it into place. Brian offered no resistance. Justin reached for the whip.

The teenager couldn't believe how aroused he was. He could feel his cock pressing against the confines of his jockstrap. Just looking at Brian, helpless, bound to the column, made him hard. He unsnapped his jock and let it fall free; removed the leather vest as well, so that he was virtually naked except for the harness and the boots. Yet, despite his nudity, he felt clothed in something else: in power. Smoothing the strands of the whip, he drew back his arm.

The first blow landed on Brian's chest, stinging his nipple. Despite the harness and the chains, the strands managed to cover a wide area of bare flesh. Giving equal treatment to both tits, Justin alternated between the sides of his chest until his skin was flushed and his nipples stood out from his chest. He paused for a moment and picked two objects up from the table near him. Tit clamps. Brian moaned a little as the teenager fixed them to his chest, teasing him first, letting them pinch his nipples a little, opening and closing them around the turgid flesh until they'd grown used to the feel. Then he clamped them on and left them. Got the whip again and began with his cock.

Each time the whip struck his dick he wanted to scream. The feel of the leather against his tender skin was like fire. The strands licked his balls, his belly, the tip of his cock, the shaft, burning him with each blow. He jerked against his bonds, the muscles in his chest and thighs tense as he tested the chain's strength. There was no escape. He could only slump in the chain's grip and wait for the next blow to fall, then flinch as the whip scoured his skin. Just when he thought the beating would go on forever, the whip fell silent. Chest heaving, he could have cried in relief.

Justin took Brian's cock in his hands and stroked it gently. Even though Brian's eyes were hidden by the scarf, he could tell by his body language that the action was having a soothing effect on him. His breathing had slowed down and he relaxed in his bonds. Moving slowly, Justin reached for the wide leather ribbon on the table. Began wrapping the man's cock and balls in the leather, so that his testicles were forced down into his sac, tight in a small, round pouch, and only the smooth glans of his dick was visible. Then he knelt between his legs and licked the head. Just a gentle lick that covered most of the tip. Followed by another. And another until the licks tickled like the whip and Brian wanted to scream. Unable to move, his cock constricted by the leather ribbon, he could feel his shaft expand painfully and each time the bonds tightened around him he became even more turned on so that he was locked in a vicious circle of arousal and pain. Justin increased his activities, sucking on the engorged head until it had turned a deep red. Then, using his fingernails, he scratched the tender skin sending Brian into spasms; muffled cries came from behind the gag and the chains around the man's chest rattled. Slowly, Justin pulled on the ribbon and unwound it from Brian's dick, freeing him. But it wasn't over.

Pressing down on his shoulders, Justin forced Brian to his knees. Removed the ball gag and waited while Brian got used to his freedom.

Although he was denied his sight, he could still hear, and smell, and feel. Mouth open as he took a series of deep breaths, Brian felt something touch his lips. Warm and moist. And hard. He opened his mouth wider but his desires went unsatisfied as Justin moved his cock out of reach.

Teasing him with brief, fleeting moments of contact, Justin stroked his lover's cheeks with his dick and even ran it under his chin, any and everywhere but his lips. Watching as the man's hunger intensified. Feeling his own grow as well. Finally, he said, "Open wide," and when Brian obeyed, he slid his cock over his tongue with a sigh. Beginning with slow, easy strokes, the teen gradually increased the force with which he entered Brian, thrusting his cock into his mouth harder and harder until he was fucking his head. Saliva ran down Brian's chin as he fought to breathe, to hold onto the pounding cock with his slippery lips. Justin gripped the back of his head and held him still while he worked him over, pumping his hips and driving his cock deep inside his mouth. He removed his dick and slapped it against Brian's cheek. Precum smeared the man's skin. Again Justin struck him with a thwack and before Brian could recover, he'd buried his cock in his mouth once more. This time he took it slower, allowing his lover to savor the taste of his meat, the feel of his meat. Then, gently, he withdrew. Ran his finger along Brian's lips. The man kissed the tip of his finger, his tongue slipping beneath the pad.

Justin released Brian from his chains, removed the harness and tit clamps, replaced the gag, and led him over to the treadmill. Without being told, Brian understood. Lay down on it and raised his legs. Justin removed two pairs of wrist-ankle shackles from his bag and fastened Brian's ankles to his wrists, raising his legs and leaving his ass exposed. Then he tied him to the rails of the treadmill.

Never more aware of his helplessness, Brian fought to remain calm. He knew that Justin wouldn't hurt him but the novelty of the situation made him anxious. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, ass wide open to exploration, he abandoned himself to the experience. And there was a kind of freedom in that abandonment and he felt at peace, the way he hadn't for so long. Relaxing his muscles, he settled down to enjoy what Justin had to offer.

Leaving his lover for a moment, Justin reached into his bag and removed yet another object. A riding crop. He stood behind Brian and slapped his hand with the end a couple of times while debating where to begin. The man was completely under his control. He could treat him as he pleased, punish him, reward him as he desired.

The stinging sensation spreading from the point of contact made him glad that Justin hadn't used the crop on his cock or nipples. He knew that's what it was, had seen one in action before. The way that guy had buckled whenever the tip had smacked his skin, he imagined he was doing the same thing, only the restraints limited his movement. There was no way for him to protect his ass and, in particular, the most vulnerable part: his hole. Even now, he felt the crop getting closer and closer to it as Justin beat him with precision. He could feel his rectum tensing in preparation for the inevitable blow. He screamed when it came, although the gag muffled the sound. And again the crop landed on his lips and he jerked.

Justin watched him twitch and jiggle about trying in vain to avoid the stinging crop. With each blow his cock seemed to grow harder and harder and from what he could see of Brian's, so was his. When the man's ass was red and criss-crossed with whelps, Justin abandoned the crop and positioned himself behind Brian. He rubbed his cock across his tender skin. Precum soothed the burning flesh. As he did so, he surveyed the view. There was so much and it was all his. Especially Brian's reddened hole. He leaned over and spat upon the wrinkled orifice and then stroked his lips. They responded to the motion and began to relax. He eased a finger inside. The muscles in Brian's buttocks tensed, then went slack as the man began to take pleasure in being serviced. Justin's finger slid in and out of Brian with greater ease now, so much so that he added a second finger relatively quickly. The feel of Brian's skin clinging to his as he moved his fingers in and out of his hole was maddening. Removing his fingers, he watched the lips slowly close. Then lowered his head and rimmed him, slipping his tongue inside and licking around the inner recesses of his rectum. He could hear Brian's breathing grow louder as his tongue probed him. He debated using the dildo he'd brought but he wanted to fuck him so badly he couldn't wait. Spreading lube along his cock, he crouched over Brian and held onto the railing of the treadmill with one hand. With the other, he positioned his cockhead against his lover's hole. Still holding his dick in place, Justin pressed forward. Brian's bud opened around the crown of his cock and he pushed through. The lips locked behind the head once he was inside and he waited until they'd relaxed again before continuing. Soon he was up to his balls in Brian's asshole. He held onto the rails with both hands now and withdrew. Plunged back inside. Closing his eyes, he set up a regular rhythm, pumping him with ease.

He was no longer aware of the passage of time. It was as if he had always been tied up like this, being fucked by his lover. All control, all decision-making power had been taken from him and he did not mourn its loss. Instead, he felt curiously free, free to be taken, free to be manhandled, free to be cherished—because he did feel cherished. And loved. He knew that Justin loved him because he had taught him this lesson: that it wasn't necessary to be in control, to be in charge. Giving Justin pleasure was more important than insuring his own. His own movement constrained, his own actions thwarted, he had taken pleasure in the strength with which Justin had whipped him. His own cries denied, he relished hearing Justin's as his cock dipped deep inside his ass.

Grabbing hold of Brian's dick, Justin roughly jerked him off as he slammed into his hole. Brian moaned around the rubber ball in his mouth, cum splattering his neck and face. When he was through milking Brian's cock, Justin wrenched his own from the man's hole and pulled on it, spilling his load on Brian's cheeks. The last few drops wrung from his meat, he rubbed his cock in his spunk and spread it over Brian's skin, taking particular care to paint his asshole, the lips swollen and red. 

Tired, sore, and satiated, Brian lay in Justin's arms and slept peacefully for the first time in a week or more. Just as tenderly as he had dressed him, the teenager had undressed him, and then taken him to the bathroom and bathed him, massaging his weary muscles, cleaning the sweat and semen from his skin. Both of them having showered, they'd crawled into bed where Justin had held him until he'd fallen asleep.

As his lover dozed, the teen stroked his hair and prayed that he would always have the answers Brian needed. 

 

 

They got up relatively early and cleaned all the gear they'd used the evening before and packed it away. Justin confessed that he'd gotten most of it from a friend of Emmett's. "Not the mortician?" Brian asked horrified.

"He's got a room full of stuff," Justin reported.

"I don't want to know."

Afterwards they each turned to their separate pursuits: Justin to his sketchpad and Brian to the first book of the Wraeththu: The Enchantments of Flesh and Spirits. Cup of coffee on the table beside him, he stretched out on the sofa and lost himself in Cal's world until a hand invaded his space and took the novel away from him.

"You need a break." Justin dropped the book on the floor.

Brian had just about gotten the teen's pants off when the phone rang. "Fuck!" exclaimed Justin. "Do you have to get that?" The phone rang again.

"Might be important." Brian got up. "Yeah?"

"Bri. Lindz. Can you baby-sit this afternoon?"

Looking at Justin's very visible hard-on, Brian asked, "When this afternoon?"

"Around two."

Three hours from now. "Bring him on over." He hung up and returned to the sofa, then changed his mind and went back to the phone. Set the machine to answer automatically. "That's better."

Much, thought Justin. 

They ate a little after noon and were just lazing around watching _Dangerous Liaisons_ —"This is like _Cruel Intentions,"_ Justin said in all seriousness and Brian groaned and muttered something about the youth of today—when the buzzer sounded. "She's early," he said as he rose to let her in. Which was weird because she had the code to the building. He pressed the button. "You're early," he said into the intercom. Waited and when she knocked, opened the door and repeated, "You're—" Stopped mid-sentence. "You're not Lindsay."

Keisha shook her head. "Nope."

Justin got up. "Hey, Keisha. What's up?"

"Come on in," said Brian, stepping out of the way.

"Thanks." She walked in and looked around. "Nice place."

"It'll do until Barbie moves out of our dream house."

"Ken's gonna be our houseboy," Justin explained, grinning.

"You want anything?" Brian asked, ever the gracious host.

She took the seat Justin offered her in the livingroom. "What do you have?"

Brian replied, "I'm Irish and gay. I have everything."

"Oh," she said, "I don't drink. Much. Got any ginger ale?"

"Schwepp's."

"Perfect. With a twist of lime if you have it."

"Just bottled."

She smiled. "That'll do."

Justin repeated his earlier question. "So what's up?"

"Don't tell me: Chris Hobbs got hit by a car and there's no need for a trial," Brian suggested from the kitchen.

"Brian," scolded Justin although only for form's sake. He'd be more than happy to hear that Chris Hobbs was no longer among the living. Or, at least, no longer among the ambulatory and aware.

Keisha shrugged. "Just thought I'd drop by since I was in the neighborhood. See how you were doing."

As he handed her the drink he'd prepared, Brian said, "How about you answer that again and tell us the truth this time?"

She sipped the ginger ale. "Perfect. You should have been a bartender." Before he could respond to that, she confessed, "Well, you both seemed kind of tense on Tuesday."

"You mean I seemed tense," Brian clarified and he assumed his place next to Justin.

"All right, you seemed tense." She paused. "And angry. And a little defensive."

"You don't have to list all of my good qualities at once."

"I wanted to make sure things were going all right."

"You wanted to make sure we still wanted to go through with this."

"That too."

"We're not backing down," Justin assured her. "Only," he added, "it's hard, knowing what it's going to be like in court."

"You don't know the half of it," she said. "Which is why I want each of you to come in next week separately," she told them. "We'll go over your testimony and put you through the paces. Do a mock cross-exam, everything."

"Why can't we come in together?" Justin asked.

"Because it's going to be you up there alone on the stand." She hesitated before adding, "Brian might not even be in the courtroom when you testify."

"Why not?" he asked and even Brian looked alarmed and surprised.

"We don't need any outbursts or screaming matches between you and the defense," she said to the older man. "They're going to say things to deliberately upset Justin, to bait him, to discredit him as a witness, to make it seem as if this was somehow his fault. And if you can't keep it together, I don't want you in the courtroom when he's testifying."

"I don't want to do this without him," Justin said and his tone made it clear that he wasn't about to negotiate on that point.

But before Keisha could argue, Brian said softly, "I need to be there. I don't want him going through that alone." He confessed, "Look, I talked with my therapist—"

"You did?" asked Justin.

"Yeah. And he gave me a list of things to do when I start to feel like I'm losing it. I can do this," he promised. Justin slipped his hand in his and squeezed it, looking up at the man with adoration in his eyes. Brian kissed him gently and smiled and in an instant his attitude went from protective to sexually interested.

Keisha could tell by the way Justin stroked his arm that the teenager was receptive to the idea. Of course, who could blame him? Brian looked positively decadent in a garnet sweater whose color gradually darkened as it approached the cuffs and hem. The fabric clung to his body like a second skin, outlining his chest and shoulders, his arms and torso. And the black slacks he had on emphasized his slender legs to perfection. Clearing her throat to remind them of her presence, she said, "That's a beautiful sweater."

"Kenneth Cole." He knew the designer of every item of clothing he owned. Without looking at the label. It was a skill.

Not knowing how to breach the subject but feeling she had to, she asked, "Is there some way you could try to look less..."

"What?"

"Seductive."

Justin grinned. "Impossible."

She stood. "Let me see your wardrobe. If you don't mind," she added.

Brian led the way to his closet and hovered around amused by her attempts to find something to suit her requirements.

Finally, she pulled out a black suit and matching tie. "Put this on. Please."

Grabbing a white shirt from his drawer, he went into the bathroom to change. He would have just dropped off his clothes and done it in the bedroom but Justin gave him the eye. They were both sitting on the bed when he emerged fully-dressed. Assuming a pose, he waited for the verdict.

Justin smiled and turned to Keisha. "Told you."

"It's not the suit. It's you. Your attitude. It says, 'I want to fuck you.' "

Brian smirked. "And that's a bad thing?"

"Don't flirt with me. And don't flirt with the judge, the jury, the spectators, or the press. Got it? We don't want to offend anyone. Especially anyone on the jury."

He folded his arms. "You want me to act straight."

She shook her head. "No. Just tone it down a little."

"Forget it. I am who I am and what I am."

"Always on the make? When you're pitching ideas to your clients, how do you look?"

Remembering how Brian had looked when he'd helped him with the Gay-Straight Student Alliance, Justin said, "Even sexier."

"I sell me. Not the idea. Me. My confidence. My expertise. My talent. My looks."

"What about your straight clients?"

Brian explained. "It doesn't matter. They just think I'm begin charming or accommodating. They don't realize that what I'm doing is seducing them. After all, what's seduction except giving someone what they think they want?"

"All right then. Seduce the court. Give them what they think they want."

"Which is?"

"A non-threatening, non-aggressive, ambisexual charmer." Brian looked chagrined that she had found a way to get around him. "I want every man to want to be you and every woman to want to have you. I just don't want anyone to think too hard about what it is you really are."

Thinking that was going to be virtually impossible, Justin asked her, "What about me?"

"You're gonna be tricky too. We want you to look young and innocent but not too young and innocent because, after all, you're involved with a thirty-year-old man. We need to minimize that backlash. Luckily, you're adorable."

Brian rolled his eyes. "I'm too seductive, but he's adorable? Please." Justin parted his lips slightly and let the tip of his tongue show. Curled it. "Did you see that?"

A knock on the door interrupted her answer. Justin hopped up. "I'll get it."

"It's probably Lindsay," Brian told her as they followed at a more leisurely pace.

Justin slid the door open and Gus saw him and called out, "Pooh!"

Keisha laughed. "Pooh?"

"Justin," the teenager reminded him, taking the baby from his mom. "Say, 'Justin,' Gus."

"Pooh."

Lindsay laughed too as she came in behind them. "He started calling for you the second we got out of the car in front of the building."

Then Gus saw his Da da and reached for him. "Da da da da da."

Brian took him from Justin. "Hey, Sonny Boy."

Lindz pecked him on the cheek. "Thanks, Da da." Looked him up and down. "All dressed up and nowhere to go?"

"Don't ask."

"Hi," she said to Keisha. "Ms. Thomas, right?"

"Keisha. You've got a good memory."

"I'm a teacher. Besides, it was the first time I've ever been interviewed about a felony case."

Keisha had talked to Lindsay about the scene between Brian and Chris Hobbs in the hospital and decided that it'd be less explosive and problematic if Deb testified instead. She didn't really want to remind the jury of the fact that, in addition to being involved in a gay relationship with a teenager, Brian had fathered a son with a lesbian couple. The man's life was more complicated than a Tolstoy novel.

"I'll be back around five thirty, six o'clock? Oh. Speaking of all dressed up—"

"I'l be there on Halloween to take pictures of Gus in his costume."

Lindz looked at Justin, certain that he had had something to do with this miracle. "That's all I'm promising," Brian added.

"That's all I'm asking." Lindz turned to Keisha. "Nice meeting you again." She left.

Meanwhile Brian had taken Gus over to the couch and started taking off his coat and shoes. The baby reached down towards his feet to help. "I'm doing it as fast as I can."

Justin explained, "Gus hates wearing shoes as much as Brian does."

"Shoes are unnatural," Brian remarked. "But they make you look good. That's the dilemma." He lifted one of Gus' bare feet and kissed the sole. "I'll explain it to you someday," he said to the baby. Gus giggled as his daddy nosed the bottom of his feet, tickling him.

"I would never have guessed you'd be good with babies," Keisha confessed.

Justin declared, "He's a good father," and it sounded to Keisha as if they had discussed it before and Justin still felt that he had to convince Brian of the fact.

"Well," Brian mumbled, taking Gus' leather bear from his bag and handing it to the baby, "I'm not a bad father."

"Beh," said Gus and he turned to show it to Justin. "Beh."

"That's right. Bear. Now, say, 'Justin. Justin.' "

The baby smiled and in doing so looked exactly the way his father did when he was amused by something stupid someone else had done. "Pooh."

Keisha picked up her purse. "Well, I should be going. I'll call tomorrow to confirm the days you'll come in." Justin escorted her to the door. She turned and glanced at Brian still playing with Gus. "You've got a good life here."

The teenager smiled. "I know."

"I'll do the best I can."

"I know that too." He waited until she had begun to descend in the elevator before shutting the door and returning to Brian and Gus. 

 

 

Although most schools and community centers and malls had events for kids on Halloween, in Lindz and Mel's neighborhood parents still walked their kids around. Which was nice. Brian remembered how excited he had been as a kid to go trick or treating. He'd always hated that he'd met Mikey too late to go together. They were way too old in his opinion to go trick or treating at fourteen. Mikey would have done it but he wouldn't have been caught dead. As he and Justin waited for one of the munchers to open the door, he looked around and caught sight of a man and his little boy approaching the drive on foot. The kid must have been five, maybe six-years-old and dressed as Dracula. Brian smirked. Only six and he was already dreaming about sucking on somebody. Justin caught his look and raised an eyebrow. Speaking of sucking on somebody... The door opened. Mel was standing on the other side. "Get in quick before you scare the kids away."  
"Fuck you."

Justin glanced around to make sure the father and son hadn't heard him. Pushed Brian inside and let Mel deal with the trick or treaters.

"Hey, Gus, look who's here," said Lindz.

"Da da."

Brian took one look at Gus and groaned. "Jesus Christ. Leave it to the lesbians." The baby was dressed as the purple Teletubby from PBS, complete with red handbag. Brian couldn't remember what his name was but Justin supplied it, pop culture junky that he was.

"Tinky-Winky." He laughed. "Gus is Tinky-Winky."

"Pooh," cried the baby. And then he tugged on his daddy's leg so Brian would pick him up. "Da da."

"I was just about to take him around but I bet Gus would love for his Da da and Pooh to take him instead."

Horrified, Brian attempted to put the baby down but Gus had gripped his coat and wouldn't let go. "No way."

"Come on," said Justin.

"Just a couple of blocks. He won't last much longer than that."

"Please," begged Justin. "I'll make it worth your while."

That piqued Brian's interest. "How?"

"Maybe..." he leaned in and whispered, "Bountiful Bottom will make an appearance tonight."

Brian grinned. "I've got a taste for something sweet and creamy." He kissed him.

Mel walked in and seeing them grumbled, "Good Lord, my life is a horror movie."

"A Nightmare on Queer Street." Laughing, Justin took Gus from Brian and set him on the floor so that his daddy could get out his camera and capture Pittsburgh's very own Tinky-Winky on film. "When you get older, Gus, I'll read you The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," the teen promised the baby.

But as Brian snapped a couple of pictures of the teenager and the baby, he grinned and thought, _Maybe when you're older I'll tell you The Legend of Bountiful Bottom. Trust me, it's a lot more interesting._


	16. In Shadow or In Light Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial of the People of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania v. Christian Hobbs. Part One covers the following time period: a week before the trial up until the first day of jury selection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **For Kym on the occasion of her upcoming birthday**   
>  and for her excellent help with all of the complicated legal issues!   
> (Again, if there are errors, they are all mine.) 
> 
> ** I mentioned angst before…now get ready…

**Saturday, November 3, 2001**

Justin traced the line of Brian's arm from his shoulder to his wrist, delighting in every muscle, deriving pleasure from each tendon. In the half-light of the early morning their faces were cast in shadow and he couldn't see Brian's expression clearly but he could feel the warmth of his smile on his skin. His lips followed the previously explored path and upon reaching Brian's hand, he kissed his fingers, then closed his lips around the tip of one and sucked it gently deciphering the mystery of its whorls with his tongue, longing to know Brian in his entirety. No matter how much he knew about the man, it never seemed to be enough to content him, he always needed more. From the very beginning, having had a moment with him, he wanted to have him everyday, and now that he had him on a daily basis, he found that he couldn't love him enough, couldn't touch him, kiss him, taste him enough to satisfy his need. Sometimes his hunger, his overwhelming desire for Brian frightened him. It probably frightened Brian as well. But he bore with it. In the same way that he bore the incessant questions and the numerous drawings Justin had done of him, he indulged the teen's voracious appetite for sex; they were all parts of the same impulse, the same need to know him. The questions, the sex, the sketches, all attempts to capture his lover in whatever fashion was open to him.

Brian withdrew the finger and cupped Justin's face; leaned in and kissed him.

"I love you," the boy whispered.

And Brian replied, lips warm against Justin's, "I love you too." His baby. So beautiful. From his warm, rosy skin to his fine, blond hair and bright blue eyes, he was a work of art. He'd probably shot three or four rolls of film of the teenager and would probably shoot a dozen times that amount before he tired of doing so, if he ever did grow tired, which he doubted. Justin was still growing, still changing. Everyday there seemed to be something different about him, something that caught Brian by surprise and yet he remained the same person he'd always been, his baby, his little boy. Only he was no longer a boy, he'd become a young man and one day he'd be a man period, no qualifiers needed. Brian thought about them twelve years from now, when Justin would be thirty and he wondered if he'd still recognize him and he told himself that he would, he couldn't imagine Justin ever changing so much that he wouldn't know him, or going someplace he couldn't follow, the teen's goodness and strength like a beacon even in the darkest night. A light that not only guided him but kept him safe from harm, from his own inner demons, from his self-destructiveness and the pain he kept bottled up inside. All of that and more, Justin did for him, without guarantees, without hesitation. And that was only one of the reasons why he loved him.

For the longest time they did no more than lie in one another's arms and kiss, content to be together, to feel the silky smoothness of a lover's skin against their own, to feel his heart beating, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Like a child Justin curled in the hollow of Brian's arm but, unlike a child, he sought more than just comfort there. He sought pleasure, even as leisurely as he went about his task, seeming in no hurry, as if he didn't have an appointment in two hours. The world outside of their bedroom had ceased to exist.

Nuzzling his lover's neck, Brian kissed the soft skin of his throat, feeling the teenager's pulse beneath his lips, and made his way up along his chin until their mouths met once more. Tenderly, he kissed the boy, kissed his mouth, his cheek, brushed his lips across his eyelids, his forehead, blessing him with his touch. They shifted in the bed and Brian stretched out over him, supporting himself on strong arms, Justin's pelvis against his belly, his groin against Justin's thighs. He could feel the teen's hands upon his shoulders. Such strong hands yet capable of such tenderness. Soothing him when he was upset, extracting pleasure from his body when he was aroused. Justin kneaded the man's back, the muscles shifting beneath his palms, then plied his nipples as they kissed. The sensation went straight down to Brian's cock which he rubbed against the teen's thighs, feeling it grow heavier as his hips pressed it against Justin's body. And he could feel Justin's penis stirring against his belly, warm and a little moist. Laying to the side of Justin, Brian cupped the boy's cock while they gnawed on one another's lips, rubbing his thumb over the tip and spreading a bead of precum over the head. Even though just kissing Brian was usually enough to get him hard, he couldn't deny the effect the man's thumb was having on him, tracing the edge of the broad head, moving in a circle just over the spot where the glans joined the shaft. Oh God..., he thought as each touch increased the length and girth of his dick.

Justin kissed down Brian's body, leaving a wet trail from his breastbone to his pubes. Ticklish, Brian giggled a little as the teen flicked his tongue over his belly button. Then Justin's head dipped lower and he began licking his lover's cock. Brian sighed while the boy lapped the tip of his dick, his tongue curving beneath the head, and then gasped as he slid his lips down the shaft, sucking him in earnest, the taste, the smell, the feel of his man's cock urging the teenager to take more inside his mouth. He didn't just like sucking dick, he loved it, especially Brian's, the way it fit perfectly inside his mouth, as if they had been made for one another.

As Justin fed at his groin, Brian took hold of his cock and began beating him off. Justin lay half on him, his legs up near Brian's chest and it was no great feat for the man to reach around and pull on his dick, stroking it, making him even harder. Brian's fist around his cock, his lips around Brian's, Justin forgot himself in the motion of head and hand and it was impossible for him to say which he enjoyed more. Finally, he came up for air and Brian took the opportunity to roll the youth over onto his back and to find his own pleasure between his smooth thighs.

Licking his way from the boy's knees to his scrotum, Brian traveled the creamy path to its luscious destination. But Justin thwarted him, pressed his cock and balls back between his legs so Brian turned him over onto his belly and sucked him from behind, the plump balls and thick cock like exotic fruit secreted between the slender planes of his thighs and the rising hills of his ass. Licking up the shaft, he made his way to the teen's sac which he sucked into his mouth, fat balls filling his cheeks. Then up and around his hole repeatedly, never touching the hot center, until the boy's lips spasmed begging him to caress them. Taking a deep breath, Brian placed his open mouth around the boy's bud and exhaled. The feel of Brian's breath upon his ass made Justin moan. He could feel the wet hairs around his hole flutter. And then the tip of Brian's tongue brushed against him. He raised his hips with a cry and sank back down. Over and over Brian tongued his anus until he'd gotten Justin's fuckhole to open. His tongue slithered inside. Justin writhed about beneath him, trying to push his ass back further onto his lover's tongue. And as he fucked his hole, Brian squeezed and kneaded the boy's cock head until Justin was a panting, trembling mass of need. When he released him, at last, the boy was hard and sticky. As was he.

He lay back against the pillows with his legs spread open and held his cock upright while Justin sipped precum from the bubbly tip. When he had quenched his thirst, his face smeared with his lover's juice, the teen straddled his hips and rubbed the still-moist head between his buttocks, brushing against his empty hole. Brian eased his hand between Justin's thighs and lubed his cock, fingered the lips of Justin's ass, and waited for the teen to devour him.

His cock sank into the warmth of Justin's bowels and found all it had ever desired there inside of him. Justin held onto his shoulders and rose and fell upon the rigid column of flesh. He rotated his hips, moaning, as Brian's dick made a circuit of his ass. As he pumped his hips, his cock rubbed against Brian's belly leaving silvery trails of precum on his skin. Brian rubbed the swollen bump on Justin's shaft just below the head until the boy began to shudder and begged him to stop. "I don't want to come yet," he whispered and Brian let go of his cock and held him by the hips to steady him as he continued his ride.

Brian himself felt dizzy with desire, his eyelids fluttering as his little boy bounced on his cock and fucked him with the strong muscles of his ass. He had given up control, let the teenager take the reins and dictate the pace and flavor of their fucking. Justin rose up so that only the head remained inside him, stretching the lips of his hole, and he squeezed his muscles, the walls of his rectum tightening around the most sensitive part of his man's cock. Brian cried out and felt a spasm go through his balls.

Their skin glistened with sweat, shiny even in the semi-darkness and the only sound in the room was their harsh breathing and the occasional moan or sigh. Justin whimpered as Brian pumped his cock up into his hole: each stroke seemed to send him that much closer to the edge. Mouth open, tongue peeking out, he gave a great, low moan and gripped Brian's dick. Cum erupted from his cock, bathing Brian's belly. The man grabbed it and rubbed the head against his skin as the boy continued to spit creamy, cloudy juice. Justin held onto him, slumped against his chest. Limbs like rubber, he was Brian's to do with as he pleased.

Getting to his knees, Brian tipped Justin over onto his back. Held his ankles in his hands and thrust his cock back inside him. Justin gasped as Brian pounded his hole, his cock like iron battering his flesh. The rosy lips of his ass darkened as the man continued to fuck him, drawing nearer to his climax. Finally, he gave a cry and slapped against Justin's buttocks, filling his hole with spunk. One of his spasms pulled him almost out of the teen's ass, the next one pulled him out completely, spilling cum as it did so. After he had dropped his load, Brian rubbed the entire length of his cock between Justin's cheeks, the slippery lips leaving wet kisses all along the shaft and head.

Brian gathered the teen in his arms and held him until the first rays of morning fell upon their bed, the sunlight dull in comparison to his golden boy. Finally, after thirty minutes or so of lying quietly together, they rose and headed for the shower. The day would wait no longer.

Of course, Brian bathed his little boy as thoroughly as he had made love to him, washing him from top to bottom. Raising each arm and scouring his pits, spreading gel over his chest and belly, down between his legs, paying particular attention to his balls and the head of his cock, then turning him around and easing a soapy finger into his tender hole. Justin moaned and placed an arm against the wall, laid his head upon his arm. "I want you nice and clean," Brian whispered in his ear, flicking a tongue over his lobe and twisting his finger inside his rectum.

"Yes..." Justin hissed.

Slipping his finger out of Justin, Brian squeezed more gel upon his palms and caressed the boy's plump buttocks, knelt and washed his thighs, his calves, then stood again and soaped his upper body once more until the his entire body was slick with suds. Then Brian wrapped a hand around Justin's cock and began stroking him. Justin caught his lower lip between his teeth and fought the urge to scream. How could Brian make him so hard again so soon after coming? He didn't have much time for thought as the man's actions quickly had him convulsing in his arms.

It took all of his strength to hold onto the slippery, jerking teenager. Burying two fingers in his ass Brian released Justin's dick and wrapped his free arm around the boy's waist. Justin held onto Brian's arm with one hand and formed a fist around his cock with the other. As he pulled on his dick, he panted. Brian's fingers wound him tighter and tighter and his cock continued to grow inside his fist. Faster and faster he beat on his meat until he stiffened and groaned. His asshole gripped Brian's fingers as he came, his spunk splattering the tiled wall and sliding down to join the suds upon the floor of the shower.

After Brian nearly had to carry Justin from the bathroom, they managed to get dressed and to scrounge up a decent breakfast and to eat a couple of mouthfuls. Justin claimed that he wasn't hungry (a first) but Brian coaxed him into having a small bowl of Cheerios. As the teen consumed them, Brian snorted in amusement. "What?" Justin asked.

"Do you remember when I asked you if you liked Special K and you said," Justin groaned, "you liked Cheerios better?" He laughed again and shook his head.

Justin dunked his spoon and let it rest against the edge of the bowl. "Seems like all of that happened to a different person."

"Least now you know what rimming is," teased Brian and Justin kicked him beneath the table. "Ow!"

"Do you think I've changed?"

"You're not as annoying. But you're meaner," he said, rubbing his shin.

"I'm serious."

Taking him as such, Brian asked, "From what to what?"

Justin pondered the question. "From being so... innocent, I guess."

"To being what?"

"Not innocent."

"And guilty of...?"

Justin paused. Then answered, "I don't know," although he did know, they both knew what he was alluding to and why.

"Of nothing. You didn't do anything. Justin--" Brian reached for his hand and held it. "Don't let this change you." Kissed his fingers. "Remember? You promised me that you would never change. That you'd always be young and cute and incredibly smart..."

"And in love with you," finished Justin, recalling the words he'd spoken that first time, the first time they'd made love.

"That's my little boy."

As always, the words made Justin shiver. Rising, he sat in Brian's lap and kissed him. "I promise."

Despite wanting to stay home all day and play house, Brian groaned and eased Justin off his lap. "Keisha's waiting."

"I wish--"

"I can't. So there's no point in wishing."

Keisha had come clean and told them one of the reasons she wanted to see them separately was because Brian wouldn't be allowed to sit in the courtroom until after he'd testified. Justin had protested until she'd explained that those were the procedures and they couldn't change them unless the defense agreed and no attorney would. "You can't hear the other witnesses' testimony before you testify. So there's no chance of contaminating yours."

And Justin had argued, "But Brian already knows what I'm going to say."

"Justin--" she'd begun, trying to explain all of the ramifications when Brian interrupted.

"Baby, let it go. Those are the rules. So we live with it." The teen had looked at the man as if he'd grown a third eye. "It's probably better if I'm not there."

"Why?"

"Because if I were there, every time you said my name, they'd look around and see this thirty-year-old man."

"Brian--"

"He's right," Keisha had agreed. "I don't want them to see him until you've had a chance to sell them your image of him. I want everyone in that courtroom to be half in love with him by the time His Big and Badness shows up." Brian had raised an eyebrow at the nickname but hadn't protested.

So now Justin was preparing to meet with the Assistant District Attorney alone to go over his testimony and to prepare for potential bombshells the defense might drop. "What are you going to do while I'm with her?"

Brian shrugged. "Go see Gus and the munchers maybe."

"Wish I were going to see him," Justin confessed as they gathered their coats and keys and headed out the door.

"Maybe I'll bring him when I pick you up. And he can see his Pooh," Brian said, smirking.

"Don't call me Pooh around him or he'll never learn to say my name," Justin replied, a tad annoyed by the whole thing. He had more nicknames: Pooh, Sunshine, the Boy Wonder... What was wrong with Justin? Not that he minded Brian calling him his little boy or baby. And he couldn't complain about the Pooh thing because the one time he had, Ted had teased him saying, "Oh, bother," just like Winnie-the-Pooh in the cartoons and the guys had laughed at him for five minutes straight.

"I don't know," said Brian, "I like Pooh." He kissed Justin softly and whispered, "My sweet, sticky honey bear." He licked Justin's lips and the boy had to admit that he did love eating Brian's honey. "Later," Brian promised and Justin smiled, loving it whenever Brian said so, remembering that time in the parking garage. After and before everything had changed. After everything had changed between them and before the world had changed around them. 

 

Keisha directed him to the witness stand. "Have a seat." After he'd taken it, she stood down front and explained how the session would go. "All right, I'm going to take you through your testimony and then we're going to do a mock cross-examination. Get you used to the feel of one. I can't promise to anticipate every question he might ask you, but I'm going to try. Understand?"

"I understand." He was still getting used to being inside an actual courtroom. He'd never been in one before, had only seen them on television. Not that he was really into courtroom dramas or legal shows. He'd seen The Practice once and thought Dylan McDermott was kind of hot but not as hot as Brian. And he didn't dress nearly as well. But seeing a courtroom on TV and being in one, being a witness in a trial, were two different things and he found it difficult to reconcile his views on either one. He imagined himself on The Practice being cross-examined by Bobby Donnell and he smiled. Brian would hate him, sensing another predator like himself.

"Okay." Keisha spoke, interrupting his musings. She went around and sat at the Prosecution's table. "So, the judge will ask me to call my first witness which will be you." She stood and positioned herself by the jury box. "Then they'll swear you in. Now, I want you to keep your eyes on the jury. Chris Hobbs will be in the courtroom, sitting there," she pointed to the other table opposite the Prosecution's, "with Raymond Mason." She snorted. "Can you believe that? Raymond Mason." When Justin didn't laugh, she asked, "Ever watch Perry Mason? With Raymond Burr?" Shook his head. "Children," she pronounced much as Brian did whenever Justin showed his age or lack thereof. "Anyway, he'll be over there with that asshole and Mason's gonna tell him to keep his eyes on you the whole time you testify, so that the jury sees that he doesn't think he did anything wrong but really it's to try and shake you up. Now, I'd have him over there looking contrite as hell but Mason is an arrogant sonofabitch who thinks he could have gotten Satan off even though it says in the Bible that he gave the apple to Eve. So you keep your eyes on the jury. Until I tell you to look at him. Got it?" He nodded. "Good. Ready?"

"I'm ready."

"Please state your name."

"Justin Taylor."

"How old are you, Mr. Taylor?"

"I'm eighteen."

"And what do you do?"

"I'm a student at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts."

"What are you studying?"

"Art. I'm taking Drawing and Art History and Painting right now but I want to be a computer animator when I graduate."

"And do what?"

"Make animated films like Ghost in the Shell or Akira or Waking Life."

"Do you live on campus?"

"No."

"With your parents?"

"No, my parents are getting a divorce."

"Just answer the question. Don't volunteer information unless it's an open-ended question." At his confused look, she explained, "If I ask you how do you feel about Brian that's an open-ended question; but if I ask you if you love Brian, I want a yes or no answer. Got it?"

"Okay."

"Where do you live?"

"With Brian."

"And who is Brian?"

"My boyfriend."

"Is he another student at the Institute?"

"No." He bit off the rest of his answer and she smiled, seeing that he had done so.

"What does he do?"

"He's an advertising executive."

"And how old is Brian?"

Justin hesitated. "Thirty."

"Don't worry about that," she said. "I'm gonna cover it during the jury selection, so don't let it trip you up. They'll already know. So you just answer the question like it doesn't mean jack. Cause it doesn't," she told him and she meant it. Having seen them together, she didn't understand how anyone could say they weren't good for each other, that Justin wasn't a match for Brian and that Brian had taken advantage of him. But the jury hadn't seen them together and it was her job to try and show them what she'd learned: that they loved and supported one another despite the age difference, despite all of the differences between them. It was going to take a lot of work, to move people past their initial perceptions and she had to admit to herself that some of it looked bad. Theirs hadn't been a fairy tale romance, that's for sure. "How did you and Brian meet?"

He paused, then said, "We met on Liberty Avenue."

"Aren't there a number of gay bars and clubs located on Liberty Avenue?"

"Yes."

"How old were you when you met Brian?"

"Seventeen."

"Why exactly were you on Liberty Avenue?"

"I was..." How could he say he wanted to get laid? "I wanted to meet someone."

"Why did you go to Liberty Avenue? Why not go someplace where gay and lesbian teenagers hang out?"

Despite the fact that she was on his side, he was instantly on the defensive, having had to explain it to his mom on more than one occasion. "I didn't know any gay and lesbian teenagers. Not at my school. I thought I was the only one. They didn't have a gay and lesbian group at school or anywhere in my neighborhood. I didn't know where else to go."

"So you went down to Liberty Avenue to meet someone and you met Brian?"

"Yes."

"Did you approach him or did he approach you?"

"He approached me."

"How did you feel when you saw him coming?"

A smile shyly appeared. "I thought he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen."

Despite herself, Keisha found her attention turning from her questions to the expression on his face. She could just imagine what Brian had thought when he saw the boy, the thrill he must have derived from seeing the desire in his eyes. Continuing, she asked, "Did he ask you to go home with him?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell him you were seventeen?"

"No."

"Did he ask you how old you were?"

"No. Not right then."

"He asked you later?"

"Yes."

"So Brian took you to his home?"

"Yes."

"Did you have sexual intercourse?"

"Not right away. I mean, we started to, yes."

"What do you mean started to?"

"He..." Justin didn't know how to explain. "He was touching me and the phone rang. So he answered it." God, he hoped she didn't ask him what Brian did to him while he was on the phone. Days after that, he could still feel Brian's hand on his cock, stroking him. He could still remember how relieved he'd felt when he'd come all over Brian's chest and the duvet beneath them. Even with Brian yelling at him at the time, it had been unbelievable.

"Did he stay on the phone?"

"Yes."

"Didn't it seem a little strange that he would stop having sex to talk on the telephone?"

He was not going to tell her they hadn't stopped. "No, because it was about Gus."

"Who's Gus?"

"Gus is Brian's son. He was born the night we met." Keisha didn't interrupt as Justin continued to speak. "The telephone call was to tell Brian he'd been born."

"Now after Brian got the call about his son being born, did he send you home and go to the hospital?"

"No, he took me with him."

"Why? He didn't know you."

"I told him I didn't have anyplace else to go."

"After you and Brian went to the hospital to see his son, did he take you back to his place?"

"Yes."

"And then what happened?"

"We had sex."

"Did you engage in oral or anal intercourse?"

"Both."

Keisha paused. "You were smiling."

Remembering that first time, Justin's smile broadened. "It was the best."

"Were you a virgin?"

"Yes."

"And yet you trusted this stranger? Why?"

"Because I thought I could. I'd just seen him with his son. He kissed him. I couldn't believe that anyone who'd just kissed their newborn son could hurt me."

"So, after you had sex, did you leave?"

"No, I spent the night with Brian."

"The next morning, did you leave then?"

"No, Brian took me to school."

"Did you make plans to see one another again?"

"No."

"So it was just a one-time only thing? A one-night stand?"

"No, it was more than that. We didn't just have sex. We talked about everything." He remembered Brian telling him about the Coach and even though that memory proved false, the fact that Brian had confided in him still touched him. "I fell in love with him."

"Wasn't that a little fast? I mean, one night and you fell in love?"

Justin said in a clear, confident voice, "I've loved him since that night. And nothing's ever changed that."

"But you weren't going to see him anymore?"

"He didn't want to see me."

"Well, obviously you did see each other again."

"Yes." He blushed a little, thinking of all of the times Brian had accused him of stalking him or got annoyed with him for hanging around. But it all worked out in the end.

"And now you're living with him?"

"Yes."

Keisha looked directly in Justin's eyes. "Now, that's all I'm gonna ask you about meeting Brian but you can bet the defense is gonna try to dig deeper. I'll object if they try to pry because you've already told the court how you met and why you were down there in the first place but be prepared. Judge Kramer might allow them to go even further, especially if they're going to try and say that Brian corrupted you."

"He didn't corrupt me. He didn't even want me. I chased him!" he exclaimed.

"Even that's gonna look bad, a seventeen-year-old kid chasing a thirty-year-old man."

"He was only twenty-nine then."

"It won't matter." She took a deep breath. "All right, let's move on from there to Chris Hobbs. Do you know the defendant, Christian Hobbs?"

"Yes."

"How did you meet?"

"We went to high school together."

"And where was that?"

"The St. James Academy."

"Is that a private school?"

"Yes."

"And were you and the defendant friends?"

"No," he said shuddering.

"Were you in classes together?"

"Yes."

"Any clubs or extra-curricular activities?"

"No."

"Then you had no contact with Chris Hobbs outside of class?"

"I used to go down to the football field and watch the team practice."

"Was Chris Hobbs on the football team?"

"Yes."

"Why did you watch the team practice?"

" I used to make sketches of the players. To help me learn how to draw bodies in motion." People who didn't draw had no idea how difficult it was to capture a body in motion, to be able to convey motion in two-dimensions.

"Did you make drawings of Chris Hobbs?"

"Yes."

Keisha paused in her questioning. "Your eyes shifted when I asked you about that. Why?"

"I made some nude drawings and some of them were of Chris. They were in the art show at the Gay and Lesbian Center."

"Could anyone tell they were of Chris Hobbs?"

"No."

"Then leave it alone. But you cannot look as if you have something to hide. Understand? The defense will jump all over that look. So keep your eyes up and on the jury."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just do like I tell you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Excuse me? I am not a ma'am." She smiled softly then wiped the smile from her face, back to business. "So you had no contact outside of class with Chris Hobbs? Other than watching the football team so you could practice your sketching?"

"We had detention together once."

"Detention for what?"

"Well, he had detention. For goofing off during English class. The teacher made him stay after school to clean up the sports equipment shed."

Of all of the sticky things she had to present to the jury, this was the one she dreaded the most. In a perfect world, the case would be cut and dry but this wasn't a perfect world and Justin, no matter how angelic-looking, wasn't a perfect teenager, he was just a teenager, with a teenager's needs and desires. Unfortunately, getting this one need filled had opened the doorway to a number of thorny issues, all of which the defense was bound to try and exploit to their advantage. She had to diffuse the situation during the direct examination or the damage would already be done by the time it got to cross. "And why were you with him?" she asked.

"I went to help him."

"Why?"

Without missing a beat he replied, "I figured the sooner he got done, the sooner he could get to practice."

Keisha very nearly rolled her eyes. "No one's gonna buy that, Justin. You stay after school to help a guy who isn't a friend of yours clean up a sports equipment shed? Uh-uh. Now, I'm going to ask you again, why were you with him?"

He glanced away from her.

"Look at me and answer the question."

Obeying her, he bit his lip. "I went because I thought I could make it with him."

"Make it?"

 _Was she deliberately being obtuse?_ "Have sex with him."

"What about Brian? Weren't you having sex with Brian?"

"It wasn't the same thing." He'd said that to Daphne too when she'd asked pretty much the same question.

"Explain how it was different."

"I loved Brian. Chris Hobbs was just sex."

"Did you have a crush on Chris Hobbs?"

"No."

"Then why did you want to have sex with him?"

"Because," he said, "I thought he was kind of hot."

"What do you mean by you had sex with Chris Hobbs?"

Although Justin ordinarily wasn't shy when it came to talking about sex, the words got stuck in his throat and he cleared it before he spoke. "I gave him a hand-job."

"Meaning?"

"I jerked him off."

"At any time did you engage in oral or anal intercourse with the defendant?"

"No." Justin lowered his eyes, embarrassed beyond belief. He didn't know why she'd made him explain in such detail.

As if she had read his mind, Keisha approached the witness stand and said gently, "I need them to see the difference between what you and Brian did and what you and Chris Hobbs did. Because I don't want there to be any doubt in anyone's mind about who you wanted and why." She paused. The answer to this next question was probably the most damning of them all. "Did you initiate the encounter with Chris?"

Ashamed, he answered softly, "Yes." 

 

Gus giggled as his daddy tickled his bare belly where his shirt had ridden up. They lay on the carpet playing together while the mommies cleaned. After rolling around on the floor, Brian chauffeured the baby and Beh on a circuit of the room atop the fire engine his Da da and Pooh had bought him for his birthday and Gus shrieked with excitement and joy forcing the two women to abandon the lower half of the house for the relatively quieter upper level.

Finally the toddler began to nod off and Brian carried him to his room and lay him in the crib. Gus uttered a couple of sleepy Da das and fell sound asleep. His play partner dozing, Brian went back downstairs where Mel and Lindz had returned, the first floor safe again for grown-ups now that one of the infants was out like a light. The other kid, however, plopped down on the sofa and watched them bustle about the room. The question having been bubbling in his mind for some time, Brian asked Melanie, "You think she'll get a conviction?" meaning Keisha.

Mel glanced around. "She's good. One of the best prosecutors they've got. Probably the best. She'll get a conviction. Kramer's conservative and he doesn't give a good goddamn about gay rights but he's not an idiot. I take that back, he may be an idiot but the fact remains that Chris Hobbs assaulted Justin and there was an eyewitness. No matter how biased. The defense doesn't have much wiggle room but the room they do have, they'll use. And if Kramer doesn't keep a tight rein on them, that trial is gonna be like a three-ring circus. It won't work but it may make things difficult. The question is what'll that asshole be convicted of and how much time will he serve?"

Shaking her head, Lindz said, "I can't believe they'd let him off with probation after what he did. He could have killed Justin."

"But he didn't. And Justin is physically fine for the most part. No lasting neurological damage. Which counts for a lot with some people."

"So it's his fault he's not a fuckin' vegetable?" Brian asked, getting angry.

She held up her hands, knowing the signs of an impending Brian Kinney hissy fit almost better than anyone else. "You asked. That Hobbs kid comes from a good family, was a football star, had an athletic scholarship to college. Despite what he's done, a lot of people think he deserves a second chance. Reduced charges and a lighter sentence. They did a poll on the news, what? Thursday, I think?"

Lindsay nodded. "Only 10% of the people they polled thought he ought to be sent to prison for longer than a year."

Her words chilled him and he had this irrational desire to run and get Justin and hold him in his arms, to protect him from the world.

Lindz could tell. She brushed his hair back and said, "Don't worry."

"Don't worry?" he asked in disbelief. "I can't even be in there with him. There's gonna be a courtroom full of people who think that psychopath didn't do anything or that he ought to be let off cause he comes from a good family--well, fuck him. And fuck them. I should be in there with him," he said, frustrated and angry and a little afraid although he wouldn't admit it.

"It'll be all right. We'll be there. Us and the guys. He won't go through it alone," she promised him.

And he shook his head. "Just Emmett maybe. If he behaves. Mikey and Ted are afraid they'll be outed on TV and Keisha's afraid Em's gonna show up as Sandra Day O'Connor."

"You okay with that?"

He paused before answering. "I understand why they're not gonna be there." Smiled ruefully. "His mom'll be there. And Deb after she testifies."

Mel laughed. "Does she own anything that doesn't scream PFLAG mom?"

"Jennifer's going with her to pick out a tasteful, sedate suit next week. And to get her hair fixed." As casually as he could he checked the clock on the dining room wall since he only wore his watch to work during the week.

"It's only been an hour," Lindsay reminded him. "He'll be fine," she said, and both she and Mel wondered how he was going to make it during Justin's testimony, unable to hear or even see Justin as he took the stand. 

 

The teen was quiet as Brian spoke briefly with Keisha about their meeting the next day and he said very little as they made their way to the parking garage, both of them keeping an eye out for the press as they walked down the street, but as soon as they came abreast of the Jeep, Justin hugged Brian hard and held him in an iron grip. Leaving questions for later, Brian just stood still until Justin's heart stopped thumping and he was able to relax his grip on the older man. Brian kissed him softly on his forehead. "What's wrong?" Only Justin couldn't answer. He just stood with his arms around Brian's slender waist and his head upon his chest and a tear slid down his face wetting Brian's shirt.

Although he appeared calm on the outside, inside Brian raged. What had she said to Justin to upset him like that? He wanted to head back to Keisha's office and cross-examine her but he realized in the midst of his anger that the best thing for Justin would be to take him home or maybe someplace quiet for lunch.

The moment they entered the cafe, Brian knew he'd made yet another mistake. From the reaction of one person, he realized that their identities were known at least to a few people. They hadn't dared go to a place on Liberty Avenue. People constantly walked up to them to offer their best wishes or condolences or just to touch Justin as if he were the Pope. Or worse, reporters would show up and try to get a statement about the trial. Most camped out at the loft waiting to catch a glimpse of them or record a careless word but Keisha had prepared them well and so far the hounds had gotten nothing out of them. Justin had stopped working at the diner until the trial was over and that grieved him too. Now, he became aware of the woman's interest in them as well and he tugged on Brian's sleeve. "Let's go." Turning, they headed back to the Jeep and drove home.

As soon as they walked inside the apartment, Brian said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That you have to go through this."

Instead of responding to Brian's statement, Justin declared, "I want pasta," and he went into the kitchen and put on a pot of water.

Not sure if he should push it or not, Brian decided to let it go for now. Went to hang up their jackets. When he came out of the bedroom he saw Justin sitting in one of the bar chairs, staring out the far window. Of course he couldn't see much as the curtains--however sheer--were drawn. "What kind of sauce are we having?" he asked.

Absent-mindedly, Justin replied, "Sun-dried tomato pesto." Glanced at the water. It hadn't begun to boil yet but he got up anyway to get the linguini.

"Justin." Brian stopped himself. He'd wait until the teen was ready to talk. "I'll get the cheese grater."

Lunch was a quiet affair, neither one of them saying very much although Brian wanted to find out what had happened to put his little boy in such a mood. They had just loaded the dirty bowls in the dishwasher when Justin said softly, "I had to tell her everything. About us. About how we met and... intimate stuff. She's gonna ask me about it in court, in front of all those people."

"Better her than the defense," he replied, although what he wanted to do was to scream.

"That's what she said."

"Pre-emptive strike. Least this way she controls things."

"It's nobody's business what we do. Brian..."

"I know. But we have to do this if we want that asshole to pay."

Justin looked away. "We don't have to go to trial."

"What are you talking about?"

"Keisha said the defense suggested a plea bargain. Chris Hobbs is convicted is a lesser charge and gets three to ten years in prison. Probably less than two years with probation since this is a first offense."

His first reaction was to say, No fucking way but he restrained himself. "So what did Keisha say?"

"She asked me what I wanted to do. I know you don't want to go through with the trial--"

"I don't. But I will because he can't get away with what he did to you."

"I could still accept their offer."

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know." He gazed at Brian, his blue eyes troubled. "If you could be there with me when I testified..."

"You don't need me. Baby, you're the strongest, bravest person I know. You don't need me. You'll do fine whether I'm there or not. And I will be there." He closed his fingers around the cowry pendant on the chain Justin wore, having taken the nipple ring out for the trial even though no one could see it. "I'll always be with you, no matter how far apart we are. You're stuck with me," he grinned. "So, are we gonna do this thing or do I call Keisha and we spend Sunday together and forget about it? It's up to you."

Justin pressed his lips together as he thought, then said, "Let's do it."

"Good. I can't wait to see my fabulous new suit on the news." Brian had bought a dark grey Hugo Boss suit for the first few days of the trial. To give his testimony, he'd wear his black suit, the one Keisha had picked out for him.

"I kept thinking about you wearing that suit all morning. Whenever it got..." He couldn't explain it but Brian understood anyway.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I mostly thought about you taking it off."

"The truth and nothing but," prompted Brian.

"Okay, I thought about me taking it off you."

"I bet you had a hard-on all morning."

Justin rubbed up against Brian. "It's back," he whispered, then pulled away and swished his way to the bedroom.

Brian watched his swaying hips and growled, feeling his own cock stir and followed with a wolfish grin on his face. 

 

**Sunday, November 4, 2001**

He didn't feel so wolfish or cocky as Keisha tore into him the next morning regarding his relationship with the teenager. Even though he knew she was only trying to prepare him for the worst, he wanted to strike out at her, tell her it was none of her fucking business.

"Why do you need to know that?"

"Because Mason'll ask it if I don't."

"You can object. What the fuck does it matter why?"

"I need to convince the jury that there's nothing wrong with your relationship."

"And telling them I picked him up because I wanted to fuck him is gonna convince them of that?"

She didn't buy the blustering. "No. But seeing how things have changed between you two over time will. So are you ready?"

Reminding himself that he was doing this for Justin, he settled back down. "Yeah."

"Why did you pick Justin up that night on Liberty Avenue?"

He began to speak, "Because I wanted to--I wanted..." He faltered.

"Brian?"

"I'm not doing this." He stood, began to leave the witness stand.

"Brian!"

He stopped. "Fuck it."

"You walk away, you ruin any chance I might have to put that asshole away. And if you fuck this up for Justin he'll never forgive you." She knew she had his attention. "Is that what you want?"

In a soft voice, he replied, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can."

"It's no one's business what I felt, why I did what I did."

She gave him a moment, waited until he returned to his seat. "What are you afraid of? That people might actually find out that you have a heart? That you love Justin? That maybe you have from the very beginning?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Then you tell me how it was."

He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the railing in front of him.

"Brian?"

"I wasn't looking to be involved with anyone. Especially not a seventeen-year-old twink who didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. I saw him standing on the sidewalk and I wanted him. I wanted to have sex with him. I thought I could fuck him and send him home and I'd never have to see him again. But it didn't work out that way. Right from the beginning, he became a part of my life and I don't now why I didn't just send him out on the streets. I could have. I could have turned my back on him like I did all the others. But I didn't."

The honesty in his voice surprised her. "Why not? Why didn't you turn your back on him?"

"I don't know." He smiled, remembering what Lindsay had said about feeling vulnerable. "Maybe I was feeling a little vulnerable too." 

 

"So, do you want us to come to court or what?" Rennie asked, dipping a brush in turpentine.

"You'd miss class," Justin replied and she shrugged.

"So?" She wiped her hands clean of any paint. "If Brian's friends are gonna wimp out then, at least, we should be there. I don't care if someone thinks I'm a lesbian."

"It's be a step up from unidentifiable freak," said Xavier and he ducked as she threw the turpentine rag at him.

"Well, Lindsay's gonna be there. She and Mel both, if they can get away from work. Emmett too. But he's got to work so he might not be able to come everyday. And my mom." But none of those people really mattered. "It's just the first couple of days," he admitted. "After Brian testifies, we can sit together. I know it'll be okay, I just--" Ran his hand through his hair. "It's just that Chris Hobbs is gonna be there and Brian won't be."

Xavier took hold of Justin's arm and shook him a little. "Rennie's right. We'll be there too, J."

"Thanks, guys."

Rennie pursed her lisp. "Hey, Xavier, what do you wear to court?"

"Why are you asking me? Just because I'm Black, you think I've been to court?"

"No," she replied, "because you're Black and you grew up in the projects."

Justin stood and made for the door. "I'm already involved in one felony trial..."

Xavier flipped Rennie the finger and followed Justin. "Bitch."

"Hey, you know Rennie," Justin said out in the hallway.

"Yeah. She needs to get laid!" he yelled so she and everyone else around would hear it.

She poked her head out of the door. "You volunteering? Oops, I forgot--"

"Shut the fuck up."

Justin looked from one to the other. "Hey... How about we go back to the loft and hang out? I'll order pizza and we can watch a movie."

"Can't," Rennie said. "I gotta finish this painting for class."

Xavier shook his head. "Got stuff to do."

Rennie crossed her eyes, then said, "Look, I'm sorry about what I said. It was pretty bitchy and I'm sorry. 'kay?"

"No problem."

"You wanna go eat later?"

"Yeah."

She ducked back inside her studio and the guys headed to Xavier's.

Justin perched on a stool while Xavier wandered around. He picked up a plastic block and began tossing it from hand to hand. "So what's up with you and Rennie?"

"Nothing."

The same nothing between us? he thought. But aloud he only said, "You sure you can't come hang out this afternoon?"

"Can't. I'm behind in Drawing."

"Well, I--" and he dropped the block. He was worse than Brian at juggling. As he got down from the stool to pick up the block, he bumped into Xavier who had bent over to get it too. He could feel the tight cornrows brush against his hair and he was tempted to rub his head against them. Then, realizing what he was thinking, he pulled away. Blue eyes met brown.

"J--"

"No." He turned away and halted at the door, confused, afraid Xavier would come up behind him and touch him and he wouldn't know what to do. But Xavier didn't.

He just stood where he was too, rooted to the spot by fear. Fear that he'd gone too far, pushed Justin too hard and he'd go away and something special would be lost. At last he found his voice. "I'm sorry."

And Justin looked around, deliberately misunderstanding. "It's okay." Rubbed his head. "My head's like iron. Least that's what Brian says. Otherwise, how could I have survived getting hit with a baseball bat?"

So Xavier went with it too. "Why do you think he did it?"

"Because he's a homophobic asshole."

"But a lot of people are homophobic and they don't go around bashing people."

"And a lot do." Justin was starting to get annoyed. "Look, are you asking me if I did something to him?"

"No. J... No."

"I know I shouldn't have jerked him off. I shouldn't have gone after him. But I did and I can't change anything. But I left him alone after that. I didn't push him. I was willing to forget what happened. It was just sex. One time only. But he couldn't let it go!" He snatched open the door, angry now that even Xavier had seemingly turned against him.

Xavier moved quickly and pushed the door closed, brushing against Justin. In a rush he grabbed his friend by the shoulders and held him without speaking. His mind was racing at about light speed. What was he going to do?

Softly, Justin said, "Xavier... I can't. I love him."

His fingers released Justin seemingly of their own accord. "I..." He walked away, leaving Justin at the door. After a moment, Justin reached for the doorknob. "See you tomorrow?" he asked tentatively, afraid to ask the real question _Are we still tight?_

"Later, J." Listening for the door to close, Xavier found a seat and sat in it, limbs shaking. He'd had Justin in his hands, it wouldn't have taken much effort to draw him close and to kiss him and yet he'd hesitated, afraid to cross over the one boundary that separated them. One boundary? He nearly laughed. There were a whole host of boundaries between them: black and white, rich and poor, out and... And what? Back home they called it being on the down low. And if Justin knew the whole story, he'd never want to have anything to do with him. He was sure of it. So he could never tell him. But if he couldn't confess his biggest secret, how could he hope to ever have Justin? He knew how much Justin valued trust, how hard he'd worked to get Brian to trust him, to confide in him. He'd expect no less from any guy he'd get involved with. And then Xavier did laugh. What the hell? Did he think Justin would leave Brian for him? _"I love him,"_ Justin had said and he meant it. _Look at all the shit they've gone through just to be together_ , he told himself and that decided it for him. He'd just put all thoughts of him and Justin aside. It would never happen and all he was doing was torturing himself. He'd take what Justin offered and wouldn't wish for anything more.

Only, he knew that would never be enough. What was he going to do? 

ustin began trembling as soon as he left Xavier's studio and he didn't stop until he arrived back home. Luckily there was only one reporter waiting and he seemed more interested in getting a photo than attempting to wheedle a quote out of him. Maybe he'd learned it was pointless to try. The teen got inside as quickly as possible and forgot about him.

But he couldn't forget what had happened--almost happened--between him and Xavier quite as easily. He'd been so close to kissing Xavier that even now he could feel his friend's lips pressing against his and they hadn't even done that much in reality. But he had thought about it. They both had by their reactions. When Xavier had grabbed him and held him, Justin had been sure that they would kiss and it had taken all of his willpower to say no, to stop Xavier before they took that next step.

 _But what would it have hurt?_ his mind asked before he had a chance to abort the thought. _It would have destroyed everything_ , he told himself. He would never do anything to hurt Brian and that would have hurt him, even if he never found out, something would have changed between them, Xavier would have always been there between them. _And he isn't now?_ Justin asked silently, acknowledging a fact that he would have rather ignored. The truth was Xavier was coming perilously close to becoming a problem, one that Justin wasn't sure he could handle alone. But who could he talk to about it? What could he say to make them understand how he felt when he wasn't sure himself? He loved Brian, that much was certain, and he couldn't imagine his life without him. And he didn't want to, he wanted to cleanse his mind of any thoughts that threatened them, but what about Xavier? What was he going to do about Xavier and about his feelings--whatever they were--about him? He didn't love Xavier. He didn't even want him. Not consciously. Not rationally. But he couldn't lie to himself and not admit that sometimes, when his defenses were down, he imagined touching Xavier...

Justin sat on the couch and covered his face.

Imagined running his fingers over Xavier's arms, tracing the lines of his tattoos from the crook of his elbow up over his biceps. Touching his lips, the stud in his nose, the ring through his eyebrow, his earlobes...

"No," whispered Justin. But it was true. He did imagine those things and more.

Xavier's lips around his nipples, his fingertips, his cock...

Standing abruptly, Justin wrapped his arms around his waist and paced the floor. He couldn't believe he was having these thoughts about another guy when he had the most beautiful, the most sensual, the sexiest of lovers. Men envied him because he had Brian, because Brian had chosen him. Michael envied him, maybe even hated him a little because he had what Michael wanted most in the world. What he, Justin, wanted most in the world and Brian **was** what he wanted. He paused in front of the sketch he'd done of him hanging in the niche by the chaise lounge, and his cock stirred as he thought about drawing Brian while he slept, thought about how aroused he'd been just looking at him, the sleeping man's flesh still slightly flushed from sex, his lips swollen and tender. So many times as he'd sketched him, Justin had wanted to wake him and to make love again, to feel Brian moving inside him. He sat upon the chaise lounge remembering the times they'd had sex on it, how hot it had been. He cupped his groin and squeezed his thighs tightly together. What he wouldn't do to feel Brian's hands touching him now, feel Brian's lips brush over his skin, his cock hard inside his hole...

Laying back upon the chair, Justin closed his eyes and unzipped his pants. How could he have doubted what he really wanted, really needed? As he stroked his cock, he smiled and thought of Brian. 

The session with Keisha had left him feeling raw and vulnerable, although he wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, not even Justin, and ordinarily he would have gone home and let Justin soothe him but this afternoon he needed to see Deb for some reason. Although he had Drew's number and the shrink had made it clear Brian could call him anytime he needed, he wanted Deb. He didn't know why, wasn't quite sure what she could do to ease his jangled nerves, but everything inside him told him that's who he needed to see. So he drove over to her place with the excuse that he had to drop off the money for her makeover. Although she had sworn not to take his money, he was bound and determined to give it to her. New clothes from some upscale place and a new do from Jennifer's salon wouldn't come cheap and he knew she couldn't afford it. He could.

As soon as she saw him saunter in, she held up her hand. "I said no."

Vic was sitting with her at the table, the two of them clipping coupons. Brian had never clipped a coupon in his life. "She's not kidding."

"Neither am I. You don't have the money."

"That's my problem."

"No, it isn't. You're doing this for me and Justin, it's only fair that we pay for it."

"I don't see why I can't just wear what I always wear." She glanced at Vic. "It was good enough for your trial."

Grimacing at the mention of that farcical ordeal, Vic pointed out gratefully, "Court TV wasn't at my trial. They will be at this one."

"And CBS and NBC and CNN and every other fucking television network, newspaper and magazine in the country with nothing better to do than to--" Brian began angrily and then he just stopped and walked away from them. Brushed back the curtain as if he expected to see a news van out there.

Deb and Vic exchanged glances and Deb rose to go to him. Touched his arm gently to get his attention. "Kiddo, you okay?"

"Take the money. It's not a lot."

She smiled softly. "All right. I'll take the goddamn money." He removed it from his jacket and gave it to her. She checked it out and started to argue that it was too much and didn't. Tucked it away in the front pocket of her smock.

"Don't forget where you put it," he warned her. "That's a lot of fuckin' money."

"I thought you said it wasn't," she reminded him and he grinned, caught out.

"I lied."

Patting him on the arm, she left him and he followed her back to the kitchen. "You talk to your mom lately?" He shook his head. "Brian--"

"It's how she wants it. I'm sure she's mortified by all of this. Probably lives at church. Praying for my wicked soul."

Vic got up. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting to get ready for."

Brian watched as he climbed the stairs. "He didn't have to go."

"You gonna tell me what's wrong or do I have to drag it out of you one syllable at a time?"

He took a seat at the table and looked down at his hands. Inhaled deeply and let it out. His shoulders slumped a little. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Taking the envelope from her pocket, Deb said, "This could have waited until tomorrow," letting him know she knew he was bullshitting.

He rubbed his eyes and said wearily, "I've never regretted living my life the way I've wanted..."

"Then don't start now." He looked up at her. "I know it's rough--"

"My own mother won't speak to me because she's ashamed of me."

"Well, I'm not. I'm proud of you." She wiped a tear that slipped from beneath her lid. _Was that poor kid ever gonna get a break?_ "So fuck her. If she can't see you for who you are and be proud of you, she doesn't deserve to be a part of your life. The last thing you need to be worrying about is Joanie Kinney."

"It's not just that." He closed his eyes briefly, then reopened them, shiny with tears he refused to let fall for fear they'd lead to a torrent. "The things I've done..."

"They don't matter now."

"Yeah, they do." He laughed. "What the fuck kind of a world do we live in where a maniac like Chris Hobbs can almost kill Justin and all people care about is that fact that Justin's fucking me?" Restless, he stood and leaned against the counter. "Chris Hobbs comes from a good family, from the right background--"

"So does Sunshine."

"Yeah, but Justin's gay. And not only is he gay but he's living with me. And I don't come from a good family and I sure as hell don't have the right background."

"Kiddo--"

"My own fucking family hates me. Claire emailed me to tell me that. That she hates me. That her kids get picked on at school because their uncle's a fucking fairy." He hadn't even told Justin about that hateful message, hadn't wanted to burden the boy with anything else.

"You're not responsible for Claire or her kids. She is."

"But I'm responsible for Justin. And his being with me is hurting him."

"So what are you gonna do? Leave him? Make him leave you?"

"No." Christ, he didn't think--no--he knew he couldn't make it anymore without Justin. Well, maybe he would make it, he just wouldn't enjoy it as much.

"Then quit your bitching and get on with it. I swear, I never thought I'd see the day when Brian Kinney would sit in my house and cry about how unfair the world was. You knew that. You knew that when you were fourteen for Christssake and the world hasn't changed a bit since then." He didn't know what to say. "You wanna help Justin? Go into that courtroom and you charm 'em. You charm 'em the way you used to do those poor bastards at Babylon and Woody's. You do that and no one's gonna blame Sunshine for falling for you. No matter how big an asshole you've been. You hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." He sat back down at the table.

"And don't call me ma'am."

Michael came in just as she finished speaking. "Jeesh. You called her ma'am?"

"Momentary lapse of reason."

"I'm glad you're here cause I gotta get ready for work. You can keep laughing boy company." But she paused and kissed Brian on the top of the head and gave Michael a peck on the cheek.

After she'd gone, Michael asked, "She been giving you motherly advice again?"

"Yeah. But I asked for it."

Michael scrounged around in the refrigerator until he came up with a grape soda. Popped the top. "You okay?"

"I don't know, Mikey."

"Listen, how about you and the Boy Wonder come over to my place tonight? We're ordering in. New Vietnamese place, I think. Ted's coming."

"Thanks, but..." There was no point in rehashing old business.

"And Jeff's not," he added.

"Mikey..." Maybe they needed to talk about it, only, how could he tell Mikey to put him and Justin before Jeff? He couldn't. He'd messed up things between Michael and David no matter what MIkey said and he wouldn't do it again.

Always willing to be the one to make the first move towards reconciliation, Michael said, "Look, I know why you can't be around him and I understand. And I'm sorry I was such an asshole about it. So, we're gonna cool it until the trial is over. Well, we're gonna slow it down a little. Which is good cause I'm not in a big rush to do another Dr. Dave." Just thinking about David made him a little sad but he took a swig of soda and waited for Brian to make the inevitable joke about them.

"You mean you don't have your china pattern all picked out?"

"Fuck you. You and your ward are closer to hearing wedding bells than me and Jeff. So when's the big day?" Brian gave him the finger. "Oh, so mature. Will you be honeymooning in Disney World?"

Brian smiled. "Euro Disney. I promised Justin we would go on a month-long European tour next summer."

Michael's eyes widened. "No shit."

"No shit." He raised and then drew together his eyebrows. "If I make it through this fuckin' trial without killing anybody."

Michael knew Brian wanted to ask him to come to court but wouldn't. "I'll come if I can get out of work."

"It'd really help if you were there."

He couldn't believe Brian had admitted even that much. Guess miracles never ceased. "All right. I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, Mikey."

"Only this time you owe me big. And if you don't come back from Europe with some comic books for me, I'm gonna kick both your asses." Michael was determined not to let them forget the fact that they didn't bring him back any comics from the Bahamas. Although he had liked the Eiffel Tower made of straw. It occupied a prominent spot on one of the bookcases in the living room.

Brian, putting his own ass before his lover's just this once, said, "Kick Justin's. He got more padding." 

 

Having had noodles and beef at Mikey's place, Justin and Brian returned home to knock around for a couple of hours until bedtime. Justin gout out his sketchpad and started two or three drawings before giving up. He didn't know whether to tell Brian about the episode with Xavier or just pretend it had never happened. After all, nothing had really happened. They hadn't even kissed. Right now Brian had a very laissez faire attitude towards Xavier's crush on Justin but if he knew about Xavier's attempt, his attitude might change and Justin didn't want that to happen. Brian definitely did not like to share and Xavier would find himself on the receiving end of his considerable and infamous bad temper if Brian ever found out Xavier had made a serious play for his little boy.

"Fuck!" exclaimed Brian appreciatively.

"What?" Brian was online and who knew what he'd found.

"Come look at this." Justin went over and stood next to him. Brian was looking at a picture of a guy with what had to be a ten-inch cock. "That's enough for you and me both."

"I'm not a size queen. You oughta know that." Justin scooted away before Brian could retaliate physically.

"I know someone who is so not getting any of my less-than-ten-inches tonight."

Ignoring the threat, Justin asked, "Do you still--"

"No." He knew what Justin wanted to know. "After fucking you all week, I don't have the energy to fool around." He paused. "Or the desire."

Smiling brightly, the Boy Wonder sauntered over to his lover and sat crossways his lap. Wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed his throat. "You smell good. Eau de Brian."

Brian disengaged his arms. "Sorry. The butcher shop is closed. No more meat for you."

Justin turned around in his lap and sat facing the computer. Took the mouse from Brian and went to one of his favorite spots online: About Face. As if he weren't sitting on Brian's lap, he surfed the site, checking out the new pics and seemingly ignoring Brian's growing erection. He could feel it stretching beneath his buttocks. And he continued to click on page after page of guys having fun with cum. Licking spooge from their lovers' cocks or from their holes, faces and necks covered in jizz. And then he stopped on a page and said softly, "Read this."

Brian was trying hard not to grab him and throw him on the desk and fuck him since he'd already told him he wasn't getting any but the feel of the teen's warm cheeks pillowing his hard-on was driving him crazy as were the pictures on the site. He could just see Justin kneeling between his legs, cleaning his cock of goo. _Fuck_. Thoughts like that weren't doing a damn thing to reduce the size of the bulge at his groin. Still he leaned forward to look at whatever it was Justin wanted him to read. It was an email message to the site owner.

From Bountiful Bottom.

"Dear Joey, I love your site. It's one of my favorite places to visit on the web. About a month ago my lover and I decided to bareback it during sex. I sucked his cock, licking all that delicious precum as it bubbled up from his pisshole and then he mounted me and fucked me raw, coming in my asshole. Afterwards he opened my legs and licked his cream from my hole. By the time he went down on me, I was about to lose my mind. I came in his mouth and just seeing him with my juice on his face was enough to make me hard all over again. We kissed and I could taste our cum in his mouth. It was totally intense. Since then I take every opportunity I can to suck him off. I can't get enough of his spunk. He calls me his sticky, sweet honey bear. Maybe one day I'll get him to take a picture of me with his honey on my face and I'll send you a copy."

Brian reached down inside Justin's pants and cupped his crotch. The cloth over the teen's dick head was moist. "You're wasting it," he complained.

"No," whispered Justin, correcting him. "You are."

Kissing the length of his neck, Brian paused long enough to pull Justin's shirt off, then went back to brushing his lips over the nape of his neck and over his shoulders, his hands stroking Justin's chest and abdomen.

Justin loved the feel of Brian's hands on his body. It drove him wild to feel Brian's long fingers tweak his nipples or curve into claws to lightly scratch his belly. Sometimes the man just ran his hands up and down and across his ribs and even that made him so hot he could barely believe it. As Brian kissed his back and shoulders and felt him up, Justin worked at getting his pants and underwear down around his ankles. Loathe to part from Brian even for a moment, he barely raised his hips just long enough to push his clothes down around his thighs. The feel of the rough denim against his bare bottom seemed almost sinful. Bending over just a bit, he finished working his pants and briefs down his legs and actually managed to get one leg free. He didn't care about the other one cause by then Brian had begun rubbing a fingertip over his rectum. Justin grunted as Brian fingered his hole, the tip pushing up into him, then sliding back out again to rub around his wrinkled lips. The other hand closed around his cock.

His fingers instantly became slippery as he stroked the wet tip of Justin's dick. He was dripping juice. Brian wanted so badly to stand the boy up and turn him around and suck him dry but he didn't. There'd be time for that later. Right now he liked the position they were in, liked having an armful and lapful of naked teenager. Justin leaned back against him and he ran his hand down the length of his cock and back up again. Heard the teen sigh. He cupped Justin's balls and played with them until moans filled the air. They were so full, so round. Jesus, he loved the feel of the heavy sac in his palm. But as good as Justin's felt, his own cock and balls were beginning to feel cramped inside his jeans. So, regretfully, he released Justin and motioned for him to raise up. Justin did and Brian unzipped his jeans and pushed everything down around his calves. Worked the jeans and his briefs off with ease, having undressed more times for sex than he had to bathe or sleep. When he was done, Justin sat back down on his lap and his dick was pushed down parallel with his thighs so that the boy rubbed his balls along the length of it.

Justin parted his cheeks and brushed his hole over the hard shaft. Stood and leaned over so that Brian could rub the head over his lips. "Ahh," he breathed as the wet tip touched his hole. Using his precum as lube, Brian eased a finger into him again and worked his hole until it had relaxed enough to take his cock. With one hand on Justin's hip to steady him, Brian used the other to feed his cockhead into Justin's ass. The boy's lips opened wide to accommodate the girth of the glans. Taking it all inside, Justin rotated his hips and heard Brian cry out. As his lover's hands roamed his torso, the teenager encircled Brian's cock with his hole, his muscles squeezing, caressing, kneading Brian's dick as the teen slowly fucked his lover's meat. Just when Brian didn't think he could take anymore, Justin began to bounce on his cock and all he could do was hold onto the bucking boy as he rode his dick, drawing the cum from his balls with his luscious ass. Brian gripped Justin's waist and shouted as he filled his baby's hot tunnel. Still buried to the hilt, he began to jack off Justin and was soon rewarded for his efforts. Justin tensed and his cock spat a slitful of cum onto his belly. Brian continued to pull on him until Justin's skin was spotted with jism. Giving his cock a few last strokes, Brian ran his hand through the spunk and spread it all over Justin's abdomen and chest, and kissed his sweaty neck. 

 

**Monday, November 5, 2001**

It took everything Jennifer had not to laugh at Deb while they drove to the mall. You would have thought she was taking Debbie to have a lobotomy instead of going shopping for a new outfit or two. Brian had been very liberal with his contribution. With what he had given Deb, they would be able to buy a couple of nice suits and get her hair done, no problem. Maybe pick up a new pair of shoes if they were lucky enough to find something on sale. Probably be able to swing a new dress too.

Bypassing Nieman-Marcus, Jennifer took Deb to Macy's instead. Although she'd never shopped in the Women's section (read: large sizes) she'd noticed that the clothes were quite nice. They'd have no problem picking out something suitable for court.

Charged by Keisha via Brian to find something that didn't make Debbie out to be someone she wasn't, Jennifer escorted her friend through the section pointing out things that would be appropriate. Very nearly wrestling a yellow flowered-print dress from Deb's grasp, Jennifer finally got Debbie to agree on three suits and an armful of dresses which they took to the changing room. Jennifer found a chair and waited while Debbie tried on each outfit.

The first was a simple navy blue wool sheath with a knee-length jacket. It looked beautiful, she looked beautiful, so much so that Jennifer longed to pull Deb's wig off right then and there to complete the transformation. Maybe they should have gotten her hair done first but Jenn had figured they'd start small--the clothes--and then build up to the bigger things--the hair. "I think it's perfect," she told Deb.

Checking the tag, Debbie whistled. "It's a little pricey."

"Well Brian was quite generous. You can afford it." She smiled. "Now, go try on the cream-colored dress."

The cream-colored dress was again quite simple but Jennifer could already picture Deb wearing it with maybe a lovely pin or a scarf. Mentally she made a note to stop by the jewelry counter.

In the end Deb got the blue sheath and jacket, the cream-colored dress, and a tasteful grey suit, a pair of navy pumps, two pairs of gold earrings, a pin in the shape of a butterfly with garnet eyes, and a gold bracelet. They even stopped by the make-up counter for a total makeover and left with a bag of cosmetics and strict instructions on usage.

Both of them a little tired from shopping, they stopped at a small cafe on the way to the salon for lunch. Noticing that Jennifer hadn't mentioned anything about the trial, Debbie broached the subject.

"So how are things? How you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected. Molly's a little upset because of the reporters. But we're lucky because most of them are going after Justin and Brian." She sipped her tea. "Justin says they show up first thing in the morning before they leave and every evening before they get back home."

"They quit coming around the diner once Justin stopped working. Which is a shame because he's a damn good waiter. The customers miss him. Hell, I miss him."

"I worry about him," Jennifer confided in her.

"Don't. He'll be fine. He's strong. Stronger than you think."

"But it's just so much to deal with." She paused. "And his father, well, Craig... Craig is still so very angry. They've talked on the telephone but I don't think Craig's seen him more than once since graduation."

Keeping what she thought of Craig Taylor to herself, well aware of how much Jennifer still cared for him, Deb assured her, "Sunshine'll be all right. Brian'll see to that. He won't let anything happen to him. Not while he's got breath in his body. You can count on that."

"It still can't believe they're together sometimes. It seems like only yesterday that Brian was telling Justin he didn't mean anything to him." She remembered how distraught Justin had been each time Brian had rejected him, pushed him away.

Deb chuckled. "Well, that's certainly changed."

"Has it?" she asked and yet she knew, deep down, that Brian did love Justin, it was just... hard sometimes to admit it, that her child was content to be with the man and that the man was content to be with the teenager. Despite everything that had happened she still found it difficult to believe that they were building a life together.

"Listen to me, Brian loves Justin. There's a thousand reasons why he should and only he really knows the reason why he does, but, believe me, he does. And he's nothing if not loyal. When he and Michael were kids, Brian looked after him, made sure nothing harmed him. Michael was always the quiet, shy type and he took everything to heart, way too hard. And Brian, well, Brian was a little shit sometimes but he took care of Michael." Still angered by the episode, she told Jennifer, "One time in high school this football player dunked Michael's head in the toilet. Brian followed him and slammed his hand in his locker so hard it broke three of his fingers. The next day, the kid's friends beat the shit out of Brian but they never bothered Michael again because it wasn't worth it. They knew Brian wouldn't let them get away with shit. That's the way he is. I took him to the hospital myself because Jack Kinney would have killed him if he knew and never, not once did Brian ever blame Michael for what happened to him."

"But that's what I've tried all my life to keep Justin from, that's what's gotten him in this situation: violence." Jennifer tried to hide her agitation in the motion of lifting a lemon cookie from her saucer but she didn't eat it, only held it in mid-air as if she'd forgotten what to do with it or forgotten that she held it at all.

"Look, Brian could have killed that Hobbs kid. He had the bat in his hands and he could have beaten him to death and gotten away with it. But he didn't. Because he was more concerned about Justin. Justin and Michael, they're the reason Brian didn't become another Jack Kinney. He's a good man because of them. And that's why, no matter what, he'll never abandon them, never. And he'll protect them, do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Even if it means doing the things they can't. He'll take care of them."

"And who takes care of him?" she asked because suddenly it made sense: the drugs, the men, the anger.

"They do. They keep his heart and his soul and his goodness safe from harm." She thought of all the times Brian had turned to Mikey for comfort, all the times he'd come looking for him when they were teenagers; remembered all the times he'd come looking for Justin the same way and for the same reasons. As strong as he was, there were times when even he needed a shoulder to cry on, an understanding and sympathetic ear to listen to him, and more. "And when he's tired," she said, "he goes to them and they give him the strength to keep going." 

 

Brian punched the intercom button. When his secretary answered, he said, "Cynthia? I asked for those demographics five minutes ago."

"Are you sure you don't have that file?"

"Why would I ask you for it if I had it?"

"All right. Keep your pants on. Least until you get home."

"The file?"

"Okay."

He huffed and severed the connection. If he had to ask her for those figures one more time... Shading his eyes momentarily, he took a couple of deep breaths, practicing the anger management techniques Drew had taught him. He knew that he wasn't really angry with her. Okay, he was annoyed--what he was really angry about--it didn't matter. Wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Hearing a soft knock on the door, he girded himself for yet another confrontation with Ryder--because that's who it was. Cynthia would have just come in. "Hey, Marty."

"Brian. How's the Latham account coming?"

"It'd be going a lot better if Brad and Bob started impersonating real advertisers and stopped pretending to be completely incompetent."

His boss didn't sit, as usual, but stood in front of and slightly to the left of his desk. "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"Between now and Friday?"

"What about the weekend?"

"I'm not coming in." He looked directly at his boss. "The trial starts Monday. It's gonna be Grand Central Station outside my place. We're not leaving the loft until it's time to go to court."

"So what about the account?"

"I'll do what I can and then the Wonder Boys can take over while I'm gone."

"And how long is that going to be?"

"I don't know. Two weeks, maybe three. I've never been involved in a felony trial before."

"Have you seen the papers?"

"What's the point? We're either martyrs to the cause or fucking terrorists, take your pick."

"They've already started coming around here. We've hired extra security to handle the ones who try to come inside the building."

His apartment building had taken similar steps. They now had a doorman who looked suspiciously like a bouncer. He rustled through some papers. "It'll be over soon."

"You hope."

"It's not like we're talking about OJ Simpson; the trial can't last forever."

Ryder nodded noncommittally. "And then what?"

"And then things go back to normal, that's what."

"You're certain about that? There won't be a businessman in Pittsburgh who won't have heard or read about you and Justin. Who won't know intimate details about your life. How are you supposed to conduct business like that? When all people can think about when they see you is that you're sleeping with an eighteen-year-old?"

"What? They run a story in the Pittsburgh Business Times?"

"You've been in every newspaper in the city."

Brian felt a chill begin to creep into his body from his fingertips and toes. "So what are you saying?"

Ryder looked away from Brian. "That maybe some changes might have to be made." When Brian didn't respond, Marty left the office, closing the door behind him.

In a moment Cynthia arrived with the file he'd asked for. "I found it." Then she noticed the look on his face. "Brian?"

He glanced up at her and then back down at his desk. For a moment he was tempted to let it go but it felt to him like lying down and rolling over and if the trial was about anything it was about not doing just that, about standing up for yourself. So, ignoring Cynthia and the file he'd requested, Brian rose and traced his boss' footsteps until he came to Ryder's office. Susan, Ryder's secretary, seemed about to say something when she caught a glimpse of his eyes and decided not to. Knocking, he opened the door and went in as Ryder was wont to do. As Marty looked up, Brian said, "We need to talk."

"We just did."

"No, you threatened and I listened."

"I've said all I have to."

"Then it's your turn to sit there and say nothing." He didn't take a seat. "I'm sick and tired of you coming down on me because of Justin. I'm tired of defending my relationship with him and I'm not doing it anymore. You want to fuckin' fire me, go ahead. There's plenty of agencies, plenty of companies that'd give up entire divisions to have me come on board. Because I'm that good. I'm the best. And if you can't support me, then stay out of my way, and if you can't do that, then let me go. You and other partners offer me a generous severance package and I'm outta here. But I'm not gonna have another conversation like the one we just had. Not about Justin. Not again."

"Are you through?"

"That's up to you and the other partners," Brian replied and he left without waiting to hear anything further. 

 

Catching sight of Xavier leaving Justin's studio, Brian started to call out to him and then he remembered that he wasn't really the kind of person who went around yelling down hallways. Besides which, after he got Xavier's attention, then what? Say hello? Shaking his head, he wondered what in the hell was going on with him. First that tearful episode at Deb's and now this. Christ, next thing you know he and Justin would be on the cover of _The Advocate_ as couple of the year. He wished it was a joke because they'd been approached once by the magazine about telling their story. And they'd gotten calls already from producers wanting to turn their lives into a made-for-TV movie.

Sighing, Brian pushed open the door to the studio. Justin was sketching at his table. Brian could hear his studio partner on the other side of the partition. Justin looked around. "Hey."

"You ready?"

"In a minute."

Bledsoe peeped around the corner. "Hey, Brian."

"Sold a million dollar painting yet?"

The budding artist ignored the man's ribbing. "You coming in tomorrow?" he asked Justin.

"Probably."

"See you then." His head disappeared back around the corner. 

 

The first thing they saw as they neared home was the news vans. Begrudgingly the building had assigned Brian a spot in front by the door so that he wouldn't have to run the gauntlet of reporters any longer than was absolutely necessary. And they'd employed the new doorman/bouncer to keep the reporters from bothering the other tenants. Not that there still hadn't been complaints. Almost daily Brian and Justin got hard looks from the other residents who resented the invasion of their privacy. As if the two men enjoyed the media attention.

Justin waited until Brian had gotten out of the Jeep and come around to his side before opening the door. He could tell Brian was about two seconds away from slugging some guy who persisted in pushing a microphone in his face. At the last possible moment the reporter must have realized how close to death he was and he pulled back from them. With the doorman shielding them, they punched in the code for the building and went inside.

Almost instantly the roar of the reporters subsided. Forsaking the elevator, they took the stairs and gratefully opened the door to the loft. Barely pausing to put down briefcase and backpack, they came together in a tight embrace.

"Another day," said Justin.

"And how many more to go?" Brian asked. They kissed for a moment and then parted, then came together again, unwilling to let go, not just yet. In between kisses, Brian asked, "You hungry?" and Justin shook his head so Brian picked him up and carried him to their bedroom.

They'd gotten all of Justin's clothes off and Brian's shirt and trousers out of the way before the buzzer sounded. It was like a curse. How they ever managed to have sex without someone interrupting them was a miracle. Brian disengaged himself from Justin's arms and answered the unwelcome summons. "Yeah."

"Papers for Justin Taylor from Keisha Thomas."

"Come on up." Brian pressed the button and went and slipped on his robe. "Something from Keisha." Justin put on his robe and followed. At the knock on the door, Brian pulled it open and a flash went off in his eyes. "What the--" Justin slammed the door closed just as the guy began to back away and held onto Brian's arm to keep him from going after the reporter.

"No," he said firmly when Brian tried to pull away. "No! It's--" as Brian struggled, "It's not worth it." Trying to hold him back was like holding onto a tiger, muscles tensed, ready to strike. Finally, he relaxed and Justin released him.

"Fuck!" Brian hit the door with his fist.

"He's gone."

Brian called the doorman and made sure the reporter had exited the building. "I should have double-checked with Keisha. That was stupid. That was so fuckin' stupid."

"I didn't think of it either." Justin stroked his arm. "Come on, let's--" but Brian stepped away from him. "Brian." The man stopped. "So they got a picture of us, so what?"

"A picture of us half-naked. Probably gonna show up on the front page of some goddamn newspaper tomorrow." _Fuck, Ryder is going to have a aneurysm when he sees that picture. How much worse can it get?_ he thought, keeping it to himself, no need to alarm Justin, not yet.

"There's nothing we can do about it," Justin explained hoping it would put an end to the discussion and they could return to the bedroom but Brian opted for the sofa instead and flicked on the television. Resigned, Justin joined him and sat curled against him. Brian didn't dislodge him, but he kept his eyes on the television screen and Justin could feel him shaking with anger. Gradually, the teenager began touching him, running his fingers through the older man's hair, up his neck, inside his robe and over his chest until Brian gave up on the news and pulled Justin over onto him and held him, just held him until he stopped trembling. 

**Tuesday, November 6, 2001**

Ted was pouring over the paper when Em and Michael arrived at the diner for breakfast. He pointed to the front page. "You see this?"

They both looked. Saw Brian and Justin in their robes showing a surprising amount of flesh. "Holy shit," said Michael. "Brian must be freakin' out."

"He didn't call you?"

"No." Mikey got out his cellphone. "Goddamnit." Dialed the loft. Heard Brian answer. "Hey. You okay? I just saw the paper." He listened. "Yeah. Yeah." Fell silent until Brian was done. "Okay. Later." Closed his phone. "Brian said the guy buzzed him with some phony story about having some court papers from the DA. He and the Boy Wonder were caught in the act. He's working from home today. Ryder told him not to bother to come in. It's like a zoo over there. And Keisha showed up this morning and reamed them out."

"Christ," said Ted. "Of all the luck."

"Maybe we should go over there tonight," said Emmett. "Take them some food. I bet they're stuck inside all day."

"And after last night, they won't trust anyone claiming to be the delivery guy," added Ted.

Michael shook his head. "This is like a nightmare that won't end." 

 

"Yeah, Mom. Okay. Bye." Justin put the phone down on the night table and stood with his hand on it for a moment, unsure what to do next. He didn't feel like sketching and Brian was sitting at his desk brooding in the guise of doing work and he wasn't up to taking him on just right now, not after the lecture Keisha had given them this morning. She'd come down especially hard on Brian since he was the one who let the guy in and because he was older and should have presumably been wiser about the world and the ways of reporters. Justin could tell it had smarted but Brian had sat meekly while she delivered her ten commandments regarding their behavior in the future. He heard a sigh. Looked over to see Brian put down his pencil and stand up, walk over to the window and gaze at the sky without drawing the curtains. After thirty seconds or so, he gave up and sat down in one of the armchairs in the livingroom. Cradled his head in his hand. That was as much of a call for comforting as Brian would allow himself. Answering the unspoken request, Justin went over to him and knelt at his side. Laid a hand upon his thigh. Brian lifted Justin's hand and kissed his fingers. "You didn't eat any breakfast. You want me to fix you something?"

"Maybe some coffee."

"I meant something to eat. Food. For lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Brian--"

"Let it go, Justin." He stood and climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

Instead of following him, Justin went into the kitchen and put on another pot of coffee. When it had begun to drip, he found his sketchpad and sat at the dining table. Took out his colored pencils and began designing his very own Junkanoo costume based on the ones he'd seen in the Bahamas. After a while he felt Brian pass by him. Heard him stirring in the kitchen. The refrigerator opened and closed. Which was strange because Brian took his coffee black with plenty of sugar, no milk.

"You want any of this?"

"I had a cup this morning."

"Not coffee. Do you want any of this?"

He glanced over his shoulder. Brian was holding one of the containers of the tomato-mushroom bisque he'd made and put away in the freezer to take to school for lunch. He smiled. "Yeah. Thanks."

After heating the soup in the microwave, Brian poured them each a bowl and carried both to the table. Returned for the silverware and his coffee. Justin put away his sketchpad and grabbed a soda from the fridge. For the first few minutes of lunch neither of them said anything. Then Brian spoke. "I wish I could promise you that it'd get better."

"I wouldn't believe you even if you did. I'm not a child, I know what we're in for." He reached across the table and stroked Brian's hand. "Besides, it will get better. The trial'll be over in a few weeks and we can pretend like it never happened."

"There's still the sentencing. And everything after."

"It'll be over for us."

He shook his head. "You don't believe that anymore than I do."

"What are we supposed to do about it? Worry ourselves to death over what might happen?"

Brian looked down into his bowl of soup. "If I had to move away, go someplace else, would you come with me?"

Fear seeped into his stomach and he felt a little nauseous. "What are you talking about?"

"Starting over. Someplace new."

"Why?"

He hesitated.

"Why, Brian?"

"Because I might be finished here." He closed his eyes. "Ryder was livid this morning. He'd already made vague threats and then the papers this morning and that picture... Jesus Christ." Brian put down his spoon and pushed away from the table, appetite suddenly gone. Justin padded behind him. "Everything I've worked so hard for, gone."

"It can't be that bad."

"Yeah, it can be. It is. There's only a handful of agencies in town. We're one of the best. If I have to leave the firm, there's no point in going to any of the others. It'd be a step down. Except Ketchum Pittsburgh. If they'd even take me."

"You're the best."

"I'm..." He laughed bitterly. "I'm tarnished goods." Laughed again, just a breath through his nose, nothing more.

Justin slipped his arms around Brian's waist and laid his head upon his back. The fear had subsided in the wake of having to take care of his man. "I would go with you. As long as we're together. Nothing else matters."

As if the person on the other end of the line knew they were having a quiet moment, the phone rang. Justin, with regret, released Brian and answered it. Instantly his face darkened and he began shouting. "Don't you ever call here again!"

Brian started towards him, alarmed.

"Do you understand? We don't want to talk to you! Don't you ever get tired of hounding people? Why can't you leave us alone?"

By that Brian understood it to mean that yet another magazine, newspaper, or TV show was trying to get them to talk. Wanting to handle it, to take the phone from Justin and yell at the asshole on the other end, Brian made himself stay put. Actually, Justin was doing a pretty good job of reaming out whoever it was who'd made the mistake of calling them today.

"Even if we do eventually talk to someone, you can believe you'll be the last fucking person I call!" and he slammed the phone down.

Eyebrows raised, Brian didn't know whether to applaud or to hug the teen. He even felt a little sorry for the idiot who'd called. Damn, Justin's tongue lashing had been just as good as a kick in the nuts.

"Fuck!" Justin exclaimed. "How many times do I have to say no?"

Brian crossed to his lover and shook his head, grinning, "I don't think he'll be calling back any time soon. Unless he's a masochist. Who was it anyway?"

"Some asshole from this teen magazine. Wanted to do some lame-ass feature called 'Twenty Ways to Please Your Older Man.' They wanted me to tell them about us, about our sex life."

"No fucking way," said Brian, feigning indignation. Then he cracked a smile. "Although you are the expert."

"Kiss my ass."

"Is that an invitation?"

"You're a dirty old man."

Justin yelped as Brian grabbed him and growled, "Who you calling old?" They kissed and then Brian said, "I bet you don't even know twenty ways to please me."

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much you wanna bet?"

Getting into the spirit of things, Brian replied, "You decide."

Justin pondered his options, came up with something. "Okay. If I win, we invite everybody over to our place for dinner on Saturday."

"Shit... And if I win?" Brian asked.

"You get to teach me all of the ways to please you that I don't already know."

Brian grinned. He knew a good deal when he heard it. 

 

**Wednesday, November 7, 2001**

Hoping Michael would arrive soon, Jeff had ordered a bottle of red wine and sat nibbling on a breadstick wondering if he'd been stood up. Especially with the trial looming closer, the time he had to spend on himself was diminishing. So far he had refrained from joining in the daily feeding frenzy outside the loft but any day now his boss was going to demand that he produce something to put them ahead of the competition. And so far he hadn't let it slip that he was dating the best friend of the prosecution's key witness. If that little piece of information ever fell into Herb's hands, it'd be all over. For either him or his relationship with Michael and he didn't know what to do. He genuinely cared for Michael but he'd worked hard to get where he was, especially since he hadn't made a secret of being gay and even now there were a lot of stations that managed to sabotage the careers of their openly gay reporters either overtly or covertly. To be fair to Herb he'd gotten his share of exclusives and choice stories. Of course, it didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes and had a huge female following. Herb knew that what was good for Jeff was good for WPXI.

Finally he glimpsed Michael out of the corner of his eye, weaving his way through the tables that crowded the floor of the tiny restaurant. There were a lot of newer, fancier Italian restaurants in the city but he liked Sabatino's. The food was fantastic, the service second to none, and there was a booth in the back that Luigi reserved for him whenever he wanted it. Ever since he'd covered the story on the murder of Luigi's brother Fredo, the man had been eternally grateful. Both men recent immigrants, Luigi hadn't believed anyone would care about his brother's murder but Jeff had done a number of pieces on Fredo's death which resulted in a witness coming forward and providing the information the police needed to catch and convict his killer.

Michael sat across from him and smiled. He really had a lovely smile, sweet and diffident usually, as if he wasn't quite sure how he'd be received but hopeful nonetheless. Not that he had anything to worry about, Jeff was always glad to see him. "Hey."

"Glad you could make it," replied the reporter.

"Traffic was a bear. Plus, I got hung up at the store. Cashier went into labor. Everyone was looking at me like I know something about babies or pussy. Not."

Jeff chuckled. "That's why I love seeing you. You always make me laugh."

"We gonna go back to your place after this?"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Michael replied, his tone of voice implying that Jeff was stupid for even asking.

Pouring Michael a glass of wine and laughing, the motion giving him a little while longer to figure out a way to approach the topic of conversation, Jeff decided to take the most direct route. "Listen, I saw that picture in the papers."

"Of Brian and Justin? Yeah, that was too much. Brian was pissed." And that was an understatement.

"I bet."

"Least you haven't gotten involved in all that shit," Michael said feeling just a little smug because he'd told Brian that Jeff wasn't like that, he wouldn't take advantage of their relationship. _'He has integrity,'_ he'd told his friend.

 _He hadn't gotten involved yet._ "Michael…"

 

"What?"

"I know Brian and Justin can't talk to the press but I was thinking maybe I could do a piece on them, maybe talk to some of their friends who aren't testifying. Maybe talk to you," he said and took a sip of wine.

"Me?" Michael almost choked. He put down his glass. "Are you crazy?"

Time to break it down. "Look, the straight press is doing a hatchet job on Brian. It would really help public opinion if the other side of the story was told. Especially by someone who was there. Like you and Em and Ted."

"Forget it. First of all, I have to keep a low profile because of work and second of all, Brian would freak."

"But it could help him."

"No."

Not wanting to complicate matters but aware of the fact that the situation was anything but simple, Jeff asked, "Are you sure this is about how Brian would feel or it is it because you're afraid to come out of the closet?"

"Fuck you." Michael started to rise but Jeff caught his hand.

"Wait. Michael, I don't understand."

"If I come out at work, my job would be for shit."

"But you're the manager."

"Yeah, and there's a district manager over me. My old boss. You think he'd like to find out that I lied to him on the local news?" He thought of the party the Barbarosas had thrown where Michael had let everyone think that he and Tracy were an item in order to get a promotion, knowing how family-oriented Bob was, knowing that he and Tracy presented a pretty picture of heterosexual bliss.

"Then come clean and deal with it."

"That's easy for you to say."

"You think so? It hasn't been easy for me." And it hadn't. Everything he had, the awards, the prestige, the respect of the other journalists in the area, he'd earned. "But I'm good at what I do. So are you. You could deal with this."

"I don't want to. And neither does Ted. And I don't care what you think, Brian would hate it. He'd never forgive me if I went on TV and told the world about him and Justin."

"It's out there already. At least this way they'd get a fair shot at the truth being told."

Michael picked up a menu, not really hungry, not really caring what the place offered, just wanting something to do with his hands. "No. I'm not doing it. So drop it."

For a moment Jeff was almost amused. _Did Michael think that was the end of it?_ "What if I told you that I'm doing it anyway. With or without your help?"

"How?" He put down the menu, stunned into inaction.

"You're not the only ones who've been around them. There are enough gay guys in the community who are pissed as hell about what's happened. They'd talk. Tell what they know. Brian and Justin haven't exactly been discreet. A lot of people know them, know about them, have seen them together. And they wouldn't see it as a betrayal. They'd see it as helping them. As helping all of us. And it would be."

Michael couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So you're going to do it?"

"I'm seriously thinking about it." He tried to explain. "Michael, this isn't just about Brian and Justin or you. It's about making the world understand that we're not expendable."

He rose. "Fine. Do what you want." He walked away even as Jeff tossed some money on the table and followed.

"Michael--"

They stood out in the street by Michael's car. "This totally sucks."

"I'm a reporter."

"Brian was right all along. He knew you'd do something like this. 'Don't be naive, Mikey.' That's what he said and I defended you!"

"I'm not trying to hurt them. Or you."

"Then don't do this." God, how many times was he going to have to put Brian's needs before his own? How much more was Brian's relationship with Justin going to cost him?

"I'm sorry. I've got a job to do."

Michael opened the door to the Miata and said without looking at Jeff, "Have a good life." Got inside and started the engine.

There was nothing Jeff could do but watch him drive away. It was over between them. Before it had even gotten started really. 

 

**Saturday, November 10, 2001**

The last time that they'd all gathered in the loft was to help Justin move in. Now, less than two days before the trial was scheduled to begin, they had come together once more, this time to offer comfort, bringing food to the two lovers who'd been sequestered in the apartment all day, hiding from the army of reporters outside. Their friends and family had had to virtually fight their way pass the media and Gus had been so upset by the cameras and the yelling people that it'd taken Brian five minutes to calm him down and stop him from crying. Even now he sniffled a little, his head on his Da da's shoulder, one hand entwined in Brian's hair.

Justin was in the kitchen helping his mom and Deb with dinner. Nothing fancy, just pasta in a red sauce but when you were serving it for fourteen, the proportions alone posed a slight logistical problem. While the trio cooked and the rest of the guests sprawled out in the living room talking and half paying attention to the DVD that was playing, Brian carried Gus into the bedroom and sat on the bed holding him in his arms, stroking the baby's hair, hair that was nearly the same shade of brown as his own. And he thought about the people who were missing from the gathering: Craig, Joanie, Claire... At that moment Justin's little sister, Molly, entered the room shyly. He raised his eyebrows, curious and bemused. During the dinner he and Justin had hosted for Jenn and Molly, the little girl had sat quietly at the table, looking mostly at her mom or her big brother and every now and again Brian had caught her sneaking at peek at him. But not being very good with kids, he hadn't attempted to draw her out. Now, she slowly neared the bed, the lure of a baby too great to resist. At first, she just stood a few feet away from them and stared at the baby and then, moving closer, she asked, "What's his name again?"

"Gus," said Brian not believing for an instant that she'd forgotten, and he smiled as the baby, hearing his name and another person in the room, raised his head and looked around. "Hey, Gus, look who's here. It's Molly." The little girl looked surprised, as if she hadn't expected him to remember her name. Brian put Gus down on the bed and the baby immediately focused his attention on Molly. Held out his hand. She hesitated. "Go on," Brian urged and she came forward and took Gus' hand. The baby giggled and drew it away. Then offered it again. Justin had taught him that game. Again Molly reached for his hand and again he pulled away and laughed. "He never gets tired of that."

"Could I play with him?" she asked.

 _Not even two-years-old and he already drives women wild._ "Come on." Brian carried Gus into the niche where the chaise lounge was and put him on the floor. Retrieved the baby's toys from the bag near Lindsay's feet and left the two children on their own. Pretty soon the little girl and the baby were laughing up a storm and Molly was pushing Gus on his fire truck.

Abandoning his mom and Deb momentarily, Justin snuggled up to Brian and gave him a kiss. "What's that for?" he asked.

"For being the best Da da there is."

"Well..." admitted Brian, "I'm at least in the top ten."

"Remind me to give you your reward after everyone leaves."

"What if I get them to go now?"

"Later. Remember, you lost the bet."

Brian grimaced and swatted Justin on the rear as he returned to the kitchen. Then he smiled because he'd actually enjoyed losing. Who would have thought Justin not only knew twenty ways to please his older man, he knew ways in excess of that number. Brian caught Mel looking at him. "What?"

"Brian Kinney, domesticated. I never thought I would see the day."

"You still haven't," he explained.

"Uh-huh."

He had also noticed that Xavier had followed his and Justin's exchange quite closely. It didn't matter. So far Xavier had managed to keep his feelings for Justin from interfering with their friendship which was all Brian asked. Hell, if he'd put up with Mikey's feelings for him for all these years, he certainly couldn't be bothered by Xavier's for Justin's. Especially since he knew Justin had about as much intention of granting Xavier's wish as he had of granting Mikey's: none.

Eventually the sound of Molly and Gus playing proved too great a temptation and the three teenagers joined the children much to the amusement of the adults. While the sauce cooked, Deb and Jenn rejoined the others in the livingroom where Emmett was regaling them with a tale about the boys' trip to New York to get Justin.

"And, I swear," he said, "Brian reached into the back and grabbed Justin's coat and tried to pull him into the front seat so he could throw him from the car."

"I told you, I hate 'People'. And I'm not too fond of 'Woman in Love' either."

"I wonder why?" asked Mel.

"That trip, that's when I first knew," began Em.

"Knew what, oh Wise and Fashionable One?" Ted asked.

"That Brian cared about Justin. Because if he hadn't, no way would he have gone to New York to find him. He would have cancelled his card and waited for Justin to show up again in Pittsburgh. But he didn't. He drove sixteen hours to find him and bring him home."

"Apparently the course of true love runs down the Pennsylvania Turnpike," said Ted dryly.

"Is the food done yet?" asked Brian. "Because I don't want to heave on an empty stomach."

Lindz nudged him with her knee; he was sitting on the floor at her feet. "Admit it, it was true love."

"It was love at first sight," Mikey added.

"No way," Brian argued.

But Michael held his ground. "You should have seen your face when the Boy Wonder first showed up outside of Babylon. You looked like you had just seen, I don't know, the burning bush or something." Brian shook his head. "You stopped right in the middle of getting into the Jeep and just stared at Justin, like you had never seen anyone like him before."

And he hadn't. Even if he'd never admit it to them, he couldn't deny it to himself. He'd been floored by the teen. The combination of beauty and innocence had been an irresistible force. And the way the light had shone on Justin, he hadn't been unaware of how silly it kind of was, like something out of a Hollywood musical, but it had seemed appropriate somehow, that they should meet like that.

"They were like Romeo and Juliet," explained Em.

Ted revised that. "More like Romeo and Romeo."

"Tybalt," offered Lindz. "The Prince of Cats." More than one person had remarked on Brian's feline characteristics.

"Uh-uh. Mercutio," added Mel. "He must have been on drugs, all that talk about Queen Mab and the moon. Sound like anyone we know?" Brian flipped her the bird.

"I've always thought Mercutio was gay," said Vic, "and in love with Romeo."

"They did that in the new movie, the one with Leo. You could tell Mercutio was gay," Michael said.

"He was dressed as a fairy," said Ted. "Not exactly subtle."

"I liked that film," Brian commented. "We watched it in the Bahamas. Well, Justin watched it while I was asleep. We did go see Moulin Rouge though."

At that the teenagers and the two kids returned to the living room. Justin handed Gus to Brian and sat down next to him. "What are you talking about?"

"I was saying that Brian fell in love with you from the moment he first saw you," Michael repeated for Justin's benefit. The boy looked shocked.

"But you told me it didn't mean anything. Remember? In the diner? You told me to forget about Brian."

"Because I figured he'd only hurt you. Just because he was in love with you didn't mean he was going to do the right thing. Besides, I didn't figure it out right away." He paused. "Neither did he."

"So when did you know?" Em asked Brian, the only person in the room who would dare ask him that.

And instead of answering that he didn't know, which was what they all expected--meaning, it's none of your fuckin' business--he said, "I was watching him walk away in the parking garage after the prom. He had my white scarf around his neck and he was the only bright thing in there. I was looking at him in the side mirror and I suddenly realized that I loved him," he finished softly a gentle smile on his face. Justin slid his hand into Brian's free one.

Xavier caught Rennie's eye momentarily, then looked down at his hands. What chance did he have in the face of that?

There was silence in the room as if they'd all been ensorcelled by his confession. And then Jenn got up to check the sauce, breaking the spell. 

 

After dinner was over and the dishwasher loaded, people began to say goodnight. Jenn, Mel, and Lindz were the first to go as they had sleepy kids to put to bed. Brian held Gus for a few moments, the baby's soft cheek against his face, before giving him a gentle kiss and handing him to Mel. Drowsily Gus said, "Da da," and wiggled his fingers in imitation of someone saying good-bye. Even Molly waved shyly as she and her mom left and Jenn, for the first time since Brian and Justin had gotten together, actually touched him, squeezing his arm and saying, "Take care."

Deb and Vic took the two coeds with them and Rennie and Xavier both promised to be in court when Justin testified. "Least we'll get out of LaGrange's boring lecture for a couple days," said Rennie. And she too waved at Brian. "Bye, Brian."

Knowing how much she lusted after him, he grinned and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Bye, sweetie," he said, 'darling' being reserved for his other love, Daphne.

Justin tugged on the back of his sweater. "Would you behave?"

The guys, as usual, were the last to go. When Ted heard that Em and Michael both were attending to the trial, he gave in as well. "What the hell. Maybe if guys think I'm gay, I'd get more action."

Having noticed that Michael seemed a little down all of a sudden, Brian pulled him aside. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You meeting Jeff later?"

"Nope."

Brian gazed into his eyes. "What happened?"

"We broke up."

"Because of the trial."

"No," replied Michael. "Because we really weren't compatible. We wanted different things." _Yeah, he wanted me to come out at work and I wanted to stay employed._

"I'm sorry, Mikey."

Shrugging, Michael smiled softly and squeezed Brian's arm before joining Em and Ted. "See ya."

"Yeah." Watching him go, Brian felt a twinge of guilt and sadness. It didn't seem fair somehow that he should be happy and Mikey not be. But there was nothing he could do about it, no sacrifice he could make this time for Mikey's sake. More than ever, he felt the distance between them increase and he wondered if a time would come when they were so far apart that they lost sight of one another, and he wondered what he would do when it happened.

Finally, everyone was gone and they were alone at last. Curling up on the couch, they didn't even pretend to miss their friends and family. "My my, isn't this cozy?" Justin asked and Brian laughed and squeezed him tight. Tomorrow they'd have all to themselves, their last day alone before the trial. 

 

_Justin smiled and said, "Later," Backed away facing Brian and then as the man got inside the Jeep, he turned and headed back to the prom. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Couldn't believe that Brian had shown up at the prom and danced with him in front of all of the kids from St. James. And then, at the end of the song, Brian had twirled him around in his arms and kissed him. He'd never forget that for as long as he lived, the feeling of flying through the air, being held off the floor in Brian's strong grip, and then the touch of his lips, so soft..._

_He had around his neck the white scarf Brian had worn, could smell Brian's scent on it, faint, intoxicating. This was the happiest night of his life and it wasn't over yet. He was going to drop Daphne at home and head over to the--_

_Pain. Something struck him in the back of the head and he crumpled to the ground in agony. He could hardly see and everything looked black and then he realized that he was looking at the asphalt. His body jerked and he half turned over, just in time to see Chris Hobbs standing over him. With a baseball bat in his hands. Justin could see a smear on the end of the bat. Red. His blood. But where was Brian? Why wasn't he here? And then Chris Hobbs mouthed something, he could barely hear it, but he could read his lips: "Faggot." And then the bat descended again and there was nothing more._

The cry woke him and his heart began pounding. Justin was lying on his back, thrashing about, sweat glistening on his face and torso. Brian took hold of his shoulder and shook him. "Justin. Baby, wake up. Justin. Justin, you're dreaming, wake up." The teen's eyes flew open and he moaned and pulled away from Brian. "Baby..."

"You weren't there!" Justin exclaimed. "You weren't there," he repeated even though it had made no sense, it was so confusing because... because... He couldn't think and everything was so hazy.

"Where, baby?"

"You let him hurt me," he accused and then belatedly he realized that it had been a dream, but the harm had been done; he saw the pain dull Brian's eyes. Yet he could do nothing for him because his own pain was so great, so deep that he moaned and covered his face mumbling, "I'm sorry," aware of its inadequacy, aware and nonetheless helpless to say anything more.

But Brian took his hands away from his face and kissed them and kissed his face and lips and wouldn't let go of him; and Justin wept because Brian understood, he understood and forgave him and led him back to the present, away from that darkened parking garage and into the light where love waited to heal him. 

 

**Sunday, November 11, 2001**

The nightmare, although hours in the past, cast a pall over brunch. Despite his actions, his comforting of Justin, Brian seemed unable to drag himself out from under the deep funk that had settled upon him that morning and refused to lift. Silently the teen cursed himself although how could he have prevented the nightmare? It had been unfortunate, that's all, and he wished he could convince Brian of that but he was insisting upon reading more into the dream, believing that it was Justin's unconscious mind projecting the boy's hidden feelings, that he, in fact, did blame Brian for his attack, for not preventing it. Brian had spoken none of his fears aloud but Justin could tell what he was thinking and feeling by the way the man refused to look at him directly, in the way that he had avoided touching Justin overly much as they had prepared their meal, in the silence that he wrapped around himself like a blanket.

Finally Justin couldn't take anymore. "Brian." The man looked up, his eyes not quite meeting the teen's eyes. "We only have one day left. I don't want to waste it." He walked around the table and held out his hand. When Brian didn't take it, Justin lowered his head and kissed his lover upon the cheek, then bushed his lips along his jaw line until Brian turned his head and their mouths met. Sliding onto Brian's lap, Justin embraced him and felt Brian's arms tighten around him in return. He bussed Brian's neck and nipped him lightly, his blue eyes sparkling at the look of surprise on Brian's face. "How many times do I have to tell you that I love you before you believe me?"

Brian flushed with shame. "It's not that..." he began.

"When I woke up in the hospital and you weren't there, the first thing I thought was that he'd gotten you too, that somehow he'd hurt you. Or worse. Even after my mom said you were all right, I didn't believe it until I saw you for myself. It took a long time for me to realize that she was wrong. You weren't all right. I wasn't the only one who got hurt that night." Brian looked away. "I know what it did to you. I understand."

Still not facing Justin, Brian said, "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You don't ever have to find out either. Because I'm here and I'm always gonna be here. I promise."

"Don't. You don't know--"

"I do know," Justin said without any trace of doubt in his voice. "I've always known that where I belonged was with you."

"How could you know, Justin?"

He smiled. "I just did. Even if we had never met, I would have always had this yearning inside of me. For you."

Brian snickered. "That's silly."

But Justin was serious. "I would never have been content with my life. Never happy. You wouldn't have been either. You weren't even happy when I met you."

"Says who?"

"Says me. I could tell. And you know why?"

"Because we weren't together," Brian answered like a good pupil.

"Exactly."

"I think you've been smoking one of my doobies."

Justin kissed Brian on the nose. "I believe we were meant to be together. No matter what."

"That's it. No more soaps for you." The teen had watched them with interest on Tuesday prompting Brian to tease him about turning into the perfect housewife.

Sliding from Brian's lap, Justin held out his hand once more and this time Brian took it. There had never been any other choice. 

 

**Monday, November 12, 2001**

Waking at dawn, Brian held Justin against his chest and watched the sunlight fill the loft, Justin's features gradually coming into focus as the room was illuminated. He could feel the teenager's heart racing as if by beating fast enough it could outrun the day. Tenderly, he ran his thumb down his spine, not in a carnal way, just to soothe, to comfort, to reassure the boy that he was there.

The day had come at last and there was no holding back the dawn, it had come already and in two hours they would be seated at the courthouse waiting while Keisha and the defense attorney questioned potential jurors. In two hours a process would begin that would ultimately decide Chris Hobbs' fate and perhaps their own.

They showered together and shaved at the sink together, hips and arms bumping, prompting Brian again to think about adding a second sink to the vanity which would mean having the plumber come in and redo the pipes and replace the vanity. He and Justin had been talking about a major redecorating project but there hadn't been time really to look at options. He was all for hiring someone to redo the apartment--after all, he'd hired someone to decorate it in the first place--but Justin argued that it'd be more fun (i.e. work and aggravation) if they did it themselves. But so far they hadn't looked at one paint swatch or single solitary piece of furniture. He'd even thought mentioning the Marforth Showroom would be incentive for Justin to agree to hiring a designer since the Marforth was for trade only, you had to have a designer and be pre-approved before they'd even let you in the door. That was exactly Brian's idea of how to do things but Justin balked at the plan wanting 'to do it together.' Brian pointed out that they would 'be together' but the teen held out and he agreed to try it Justin's way once the trial was over. In the meanwhile, they'd just have to share the single sink. Not that Brian minded bumping hips with Justin.

Taking one last look at Justin's attire before they left the loft, Brian pronounced that the teen looked honest and sincere in his navy blue suit that his mom had bought him a year ago. "I, on the other hand," Brian announced, "look fabulous." Just as they were about to walk out the door, Brian noticed Justin hesitate. He cupped the boy's chin and kissed him softly. "Have I told you that I think you're the hottest, sexiest, smartest, bravest, strongest little twinkie I know?"

"Don't call me a twinkie," Justin said but he smiled when he said it because Brian's words made him feel all warm inside.

Brian gave him another kiss and tugged on his sleeve. "Move it. Keisha'll be looking for us pretty soon."

Amazingly there were only a few reporters outside when they exited the building, all shouting for a quote.

"Well, it's not like they don't know where we're going," Brian said once they were inside the cab. They'd decided it would be better to arrive in a taxi than to drive and have to park and then walk a couple of blocks. This way they could pull up, get out, and get inside with the least amount of hassle. Brian dreaded walking into the courthouse. Not only would the press be there but the gay rights demonstrators would be out in full force, as well as the hate crime legislation proponents, the anti-hate crime legislation proponents, the anti-gay groups, and the nut jobs that habitually showed up whenever there was a high-profile trial. All trying to get a piece of them. Keisha had directed them to the back entrance where she'd be waiting, hoping that most of the reporters and demonstrators would be around the front but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be met by a couple hundred people as they tried to get inside.

The cab driver gave them a look but said nothing as he drove them downtown. Brian could tell he knew who they were and didn't approve of them at all. _Well, fuck him,_ he thought and he set about ignoring the furtive glances the man cast at them through the rearview mirror. What did he think? That they were going to go at it right there in the back of the cab on the way to court? Maybe they should have taken Mel up on her offer to drive them but he hadn't wanted to put any of their friends through any more hassle than was necessary. Noticing the man's scrutiny, Justin had moved away from him a little but Brian, giving into the hot pulse of anger that surged through him, reached for Justin's hand and held it until they neared the courthouse. Taking out his wallet, he paid the driver, even gave him a decent tip, wanting to make sure the guy didn't do something stupid in front of the press. Which he could see a block away. Along with a long line of demonstrators carrying signs.

"Shit," Justin whispered. "Are you sure this is the back?"

"Yeah," replied Brian. "The Ross Street entrance. That's what she said."

"Maybe we should have gone around front."

"Probably isn't any better. I'm sure they've got both sides covered." Taking a deep breath, he risked touching Justin's face, just for a moment, and then the cab pulled up to the sidewalk and the race was on.

Justin knew they had been spotted when one group of demonstrators began chanting, "Hey, hey! Ho, ho! Homophobia's got to go!" in remembrance of the rally Senator Baxter had attended at St. James in support of the Gay Straight Student Alliance. A number of the demonstrators were carrying signs in support of the hate crimes legislation currently being considered in the House. Brian figured they were probably from the Center for Gay and Lesbian Civil Rights or from SPARC, the Statewide Pennsylvania Rights Coalition. There were also members of PFLAG-Pittsburgh in the crowd but not Debbie. Just this once. And the Rainbow Alliance at U Pittsburgh, CMU's Allies, and Pittsburgh Out. The teen spotted a couple of religious organizations including Integrity which was a group for gay, lesbian, and transgendered Episcopalians. But they weren't the only ones.

The ad exec noted the first of the anti-gay signs just as they were exiting the cab and he wanted more than anything to shield Justin from them but he couldn't. "Homosexuality is a disease--Wipe it out," one of the signs read. Another said, "Christian Hobbs--Doing the Lord's Work;" and still another, "No Tears for Queers." In an instant he felt lightheaded with anger and he wanted to strike out at someone, at anyone who got too close to him and his baby. Justin looked up at him and spoke his name softly and he suppressed the impulse, put his arm around the teen's waist, and pushed through the crowd, ignoring as best he could the chanting, the shouting, the reporters yelling to be heard, just wanting to get Justin inside and away from the insanity. Only, instead of cringing, Justin seemed to stand taller, eyes straight ahead, head held high, and Brian found himself smiling grimly, proud of his baby for being better than any of those assholes. As they passed through the entrance of the courthouse, Brian felt someone grab his arm and he whipped around, ready to fight, terrified that they were after Justin. But it was only a teenager holding out a card with a rainbow on it. Although the boy's reasons might have been pure, Brian wasn't about to take any chances, especially with all of the rumors and rumors of rumors regarding Anthrax and everything else these days, it was best not to take anything from anyone, no matter how innocent the messenger appeared to be. Disregarding the proffered gift, Brian continued through the door.

Keisha met them inside. "Well, congratulations. You didn't get arrested," she told Brian.

"Is it going to be like that every day?" Justin asked, the tremble in his voice betraying the fact that he had been shaken a little by the mob scene outside despite the brave front he had put on for the public.

"Worse," she said. "Especially after the jury selection is over and we start presenting our case."

He glanced towards the door, then looked back at Brian who ran a hand down his arm and encircled his wrist lightly.

"Come on, let's get you settled in."

They followed her up to her office and took seats in a pair of uncomfortable chairs. Brian grumbled, "I don't know why we have to be here anyway. If it's gonna take three days to get a jury, and you don't want us in the courtroom, what's the point of us coming down here?"

"Because Chris Hobbs is going to be here and I don't want anybody forgetting about Justin."

"I don't think you have to worry about that. We're on the front page of every fucking newspaper in the city and on the news every night. If anything, people ought to be sick of us."

She understood his real complaint. "I know it's a hassle, I know it's unfair, I know it's interfering with your lives, but this has to be done. Just be glad that Justin's alive and able to come to court."

Brian's eyes flashed. "Don't you fucking try to guilt trip me."

"Brian--" Justin began and then fell silent because he'd felt a twinge of anger himself at her choice of words. Hadn't he just spent most of yesterday convincing Brian that he had no reason to feel guilty? And here she was threatening to undo all of his work.

Aware that she'd gone too far, Keisha retreated a little. "I didn't mean it that way." She dropped it. "You want some coffee, donut, Danish, something like that?" At the word Danish Justin's face lit up and she laughed. "I'll see what I can find. We've got about a half hour before I have to be in court." Leaving them, she went in search of pastries.

Rubbing his lower face, Brian shook his head. "Sorry."

"For what? She had no right."

Brian reached for him and entwined his fingers with Justin's. "Did I mention you were the creamiest little twinkie too?"

"Fuck you," Justin mouthed, afraid someone would hear him even though the door was shut.

Grinning, Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek, then slowly let it appear between his lips. Flicked the tip.

And with each acrobatic move of Brian's tongue, Justin felt his cock twitch. God, he couldn't wait until this day was over.

Keisha returned not soon after she'd left carrying a plate with three cream cheese Danishes on it. She also brought two mugs and pointed to the coffee maker in the corner. It was half filled. "Help yourself. There's cream and sugar in the fridge," she said, meaning the small refrigerator upon which the coffee maker sat. Gathering her trial notebook and a couple of pencils, she paused, giving them the once over. "Stay in the office. I don't care if you hear the fire alarm, you'd better call me first before you evacuate the building."

"Do we have your cell phone number or should we just send smoke signals?" Brian asked and Keisha grinned despite herself. He was quick.

"Just be on your toes."

They watched her leave, looking rather natty in a grey on grey pinstriped suit. As she sauntered out of the office, Justin said to Brian, "I never realized it but she kind of looks like Angela Bassett. In Strange Days."

Brian, who had watched the film with Justin, added, "Let's hope she can kick ass like Mace."

Justin thought about it. "I bet she could beat Mace."

Having gone up against her during their intense session and come out barely alive, Brian decided that was one bet he wouldn't touch. Too close to call. 

 

Standing behind the Prosecution's table, Keisha waited while the Sheriff's Deputy brought in the panel of prospective jury members and seated them in the courtroom. Normally there were about thirty to forty-five people called at once but because of the nature of the trial, one hundred persons had been called. The Clerk of Courts declared that the Allegheny County Court of Common Pleas was in session, the Honorable Judge Leonard Kramer presiding.

Judge Kramer spoke. "This is the time set for the trial by jury of the case of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania v. Christian Hobbs. The court notes the presence of the defendant, defense counsel, and counsel for the Commonwealth. Is the prosecution ready to proceed with the trial?"

Keisha stood. "The prosecution is ready, Your Honor." Sat.

"Is the defendant ready to proceed?"

To which Mason stood and replied, "Ready, Your Honor."

Taking over, the Clerk proceeded to swear in the jurors. "Will all the prospective jurors seated in the courtroom please stand and be sworn." Once the juors had gotten to their feet, he continued. "Do you solemnly swear by Almighty God or do declare or affirm that you will answer truthfully all questions that may be put to you concerning your qualifications for service as a juror?" All of the jurors answered in the affirmative. "You may be seated."

"Ladies and gentlemen," began Judge Kramer, "although each of you were asked to fill out a questionnaire prior to coming in this morning you may be asked to repeat that information today in court. In addition, you will be asked a number of other questions. These questions are not designed to pry into your personal life or to cast judgement or aspersion upon your intellect or integrity. They are asked in order to assure each party that the jury will be fair and impartial." Turning to the two counsels, Kramer asked that they introduce themselves and read their list of potential witnesses.

Keisha greeted the prospective jurors. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Keisha Thomas and I'm an Assistant District Attorney with the Allegheny County District Attorney's Office." To Judge Kramer, she said, "If it pleases the Court, Your Honor, I'd like to read the list of potential witnesses for the prosecution." At his nod, she read the list. "Justin Taylor, Lane Jenkins, Jordan McLachlan, Max Freiberg, Debbie Novotny, Brian Kinney, Daphne Chanders, Charles Martin, Lauren Holt, Tabitha Brown, Gordan Grant, Officer Paul Trumball, Officer Leo Webb, Jean Quinn, Sarah DeGeneres, Dr. John Gates, and Dr. Franklin Winchell."

After she had finished and sat down, the defense attorney stood with Chris. "Good morning, everyone, my name is Raymond Mason and I'm the counsel for the defendant, Christian Hobbs."

Chris, trying to wipe the sullen look from his face, stood and said, "Good morning," and then sat down.

Mason addressed the bench. "If it pleases the court, I'll read the list of potential witnesses for the defense." Securing the judge's go-ahead, Mason read, "Christian Hobbs, Matthew Lewis, Lisa Monroe, Bailey Dixon, Dr. Lawrence Perkins, Rev. James Collier, and Coach Mark Smithers."

The lists of witnesses read, Judge Kramer instructed the Clerk to call sixteen names from the prospective jurors. The Clerk read the requested number of names and each of the summoned persons came forward to take their seats in the jury box in order, beginning with the first seat closest to the prosecution. As the jurors were called, Keisha filled in a seating chart with their names and then quickly pulled the questionnaires of the sixteen jurors and went over their information noting any jurors whose answers might mark them for dismissal.

 _And now_ , she thought _the fun really begins._


	17. In Shadow or in Light, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two spans from the first day of jury selection through Brian's testimony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special byline acknowledgement for Kym who went above and beyond; some of Keisha's words are hers. Usual disclaimer: any errors are mine. 
> 
> **Warning: it's a long one. ;-p**

**Monday, November 12th**

Thinking Justin was looking down at the demonstrators below, Brian was surprised to hear him say, "It's modeled after the Bridge of Sighs in Venice."

"What is?" he asked as he joined him at the window.

Justin pointed to the bridge connecting the courthouse and the jail. "That is." He laid his finger against the glass absent-mindedly. "We're supposed to come down here on a field trip next semester."

"Well, you're just ahead of the curve." Kissed the top of his head. "As always." By then Justin's eyes had wandered from the bridge to the crowd below. Brian tugged on his arm. "We've got all this time on our hands," he said, "might as well put it to good use."

Although Keisha had her own office, it seemed to Justin to still be kind of high risk to fool around in the courthouse. "We can't," he protested, as Brian pulled him away from the window.

"Can't talk about our trip next summer? Why not?"

"Trip?" Justin asked stupidly, then belatedly understood.

"The Bridge of Sighs? Venice?" Brian shook his head. "Kids. You've got an attention span of what? Two seconds?" Justin pushed him as he sat down. "Behave, little boy, or I'll have to spank you."

But Justin, already plunging headlong into thinking about the trip, ignored him and took a pad and pencil from out of his bag. "Have you decided when we're going?"

"Last two weeks in July, first two weeks in August," replied Brian. "So where do you want to go?"

"Everywhere?" suggested Justin.

"We've got four weeks," Brian reminded him.

"Italy, France, England, Spain, and Greece."

Amused, Brian reiterated his statement. "We've only got four weeks."

"I know." His eyes sparkled as he thought of the two of them wandering through the streets of Montmartre or gliding down the canals of Venice in a gondola; climbing to the Acropolis or staring up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. "I can't wait."

The smile on Justin's face infectious, Brian remarked, "Neither can I." With all of the opportunities he'd had to travel, he couldn't believe that he'd never gone to Europe but he was glad that his first time would be with Justin. And he laughed at that phrase, 'his first time.'

"What?"

"Nothing."

Justin reached for his hand. "Have I ever thanked you for this trip?"

And Brian thought of all the times he'd needed Justin and the boy had been there; the times he'd failed Justin and yet the teen had never given up on them; the mornings and evenings and afternoons of lovemaking, of talking at the table over a meal, or just laying together watching TV, and he replied softly, "Yeah. You have."

However, in spite the joy they found in planning for their holiday, they couldn't forget where they were now and why. The here and now intruded upon thoughts of the future and eventually overshadowed them.

"Do you think," Justin asked, "it's going okay in there?"

Brian shrugged. "I'm an advertiser, not an attorney." He didn't know, had no clue. It was completely out of his hands and even though he had vowed not to worry about the things he couldn't control, he found himself fretting about the jury selection and hoping it wouldn't take as long as Keisha seemed to think. Already he was getting tired of her office, despite being with Justin. He glanced at the clock. Nine twenty-eight. Only a half hour had passed and how many more left to endure? 

 

**9:30 a.m.**

It never failed to fill her with a sense of wonder, of pride, and of purpose: the law. And not the law in the abstract or even the codes and cases bound in handsome leather volumes that lined her office, but the law in action, the process of the law, the living law as she thought of it. She wasn't a crusader, didn't believe that she could single-handedly right every wrong perpetrated in her district, but she did believe in the power of the law. Look at what it had done for her.

Taken her from one of the roughest, poorest sections of Philly to the University of Pennsylvania. And from there to the Allegheny County District Attorney's Office. She supposed she could have gone back to Philadelphia but she hadn't wanted to prosecute people she knew, people whose parents went to church with her mother and father, people she'd grown up with, run with until she'd realized that there was a better way. Sparing a glance for her opponent, she wondered if Mason had ever felt that way about the law or if it had only been a matter of a fat paycheck and notoriety, since those were definitely two things he could say he'd gained as a result of being an attorney.

Guiltily she realized she'd let her mind wander for a moment. Kramer was just finishing his opening instructions to the first group of prospective jurors in the box. "I ask you not to withhold information in order to be seated on his jury. Please answer the questions the way you feel and not the way you think I or the attorneys would wish you to answer. If you have something to say because of a question I've asked, please raise your hand, and if you're not sure if you should speak up, raise your hand anyway and I'll decide if it's important. Let me remind you," he added, "that the term voir dire means in Latin 'to speak the truth.' That's what the jury selection process is all about. We need you to speak the truth about yourself so that a fair and impartial jury may be selected for this case, so please be straightforward and honest with your answers. Now, that's all I'm going to say about that, as I believe you're all honest persons who've never lied in their lives."

Keisha noted the people in the jury box who smiled or chuckled at the judge's statement and the ones who seemed to stiffen or take umbrage. Personality counted for a great deal when it came to jurors, not only the attorney's personality but that of the jurors themselves. On the whole she preferred people who could relax and be themselves, who could take a joke, who were approachable and, while taking the process seriously, didn't take themselves too seriously. She understood how difficult the process itself was, and she understood the burden some people felt when deciding the fate of another human being, she respected that, respected the courage it took to be able to pass judgement on a person, but the last thing she wanted was a jury full of uptight, nervous, rigid, righteous, and humorless people. Of course, she didn't want a jury box full of con artists and crooks either.

The judge went over the basic requirements for service on a jury: that a person be eighteen years of age, a citizen of the United States, a resident of Pennsylvania and of Allegheny County, mentally competent, and hadn't been convicted of a crime punishable by imprisonment for more than one year or if so had been granted a pardon or amnesty, and then he asked if anyone on the panel failed to meet any of those requirements. No one raised their hands. He moved on to the next set of questions. "Having consulted with the attorneys for both sides, I anticipate that this case will last approximately three weeks, is there anyone who has a physical condition or illness which would make it difficult to sit through a trial of that length?" A woman in the second row and a man on the first raised their hands. "Would you like to come forward to answer the question in private?"

"That's okay, Your Honor," the woman replied. The man shook his head.

"Then please answer the question."

She touched her hair unconsciously as she replied, "I have breast cancer, Your Honor, and I'm just starting chemotherapy." The other women in the jury box look on with pity at the woman, who was in her early forties. It seemed as if, these days, everyone knew someone with breast cancer. The pink ribbon, like the red one, had taken on personal significance for many people.

The man replied, "I have a degenerative disk in my back, Your Honor. I'm on disability because I can't sit for any long periods of time or stand for that matter."

Keisha waited for the judge to excuse them both and for the Clerk to call two new jurors.

When the replacement jurors were called, the judge quickly went over the requirements for service and the previous question, then continued with his list of inquiries. "Is there any juror who has any physical or mental disability which would affect their ability to participate in the trial? For example, does anyone have a hearing or visual impairment or problem concentrating?" No one raised their hand. "All right. Now, under the law, a person may be excused from jury service only if their absence from work would materially or adversely affect the public safety, health, welfare, or interest or if their jury duty would impose an undue hardship upon them."

This was where most jurors tried to get out of jury duty because it didn't pay much and even if your employer paid three quarters of your salary while you were on jury duty, that might be just enough to set you back a little. But, surprise, surprise, no one claimed undue hardship. Probably realized it wasn't worth the hassle.

"Is there anyone who cannot read, write, speak, and understand English well enough to participate?" A couple of the jurors glanced over at two men who were Hispanic but the men didn't raise their hands. "Are there any persons who are active members of the armed services either of the United States or the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania?" No response. "Has anyone served on jury duty in the previous two years?"

As always, Keisha had found this part of the voir dire a little tedious. Necessary but tedious. Now that the preliminary questions were out of the way, they could get down to the nitty gritty as her mama called it.

At that point the judge asked if anyone had sat as a juror before at any time and four people raised their hands. One woman had served on a civil trial, a sexual harassment case three years ago in Pittsburgh, and the jury found in favor of the plaintiff. Another woman had sat on the jury for an armed robbery trial ten years ago in Harrisburg and they had found the defendant not-guilty. The other two people had similar experiences. Interesting but not cause for dismissal from this particular jury.

Moving on, Judge Kramer asked if any of the jurors knew either of the attorneys professionally or socially. If they knew any member of the law firm of Mason, Biddle and Holt either professionally or socially. Looking over at most of them, even dressed in their good clothes, Keisha could tell that if they had been in trouble in the past, none of them could actually afford Mason, Biddle and Holt, and they certainly wouldn't have attended any social functions with any of the partners.

Kramer asked if they knew the defendant, Christian Hobbs, or anyone in the defendant's family. If they knew any of the witnesses named by either side. If anyone had had any legal training in the past at any time or if they were currently a student pursuing coursework in any area of the law.

A man in the second row responded that he'd gone to law school but had only completed a week before he'd dropped out. He laughed out loud as if he couldn't believe it himself while a couple people did so discreetly.

As the titters died down, Kramer checked the time and, as it was nearly 10:45, decided that a break was in order.

Keisha, for one, was glad. It'd give her a chance to look in on Brian and Justin and see how they were holding up and to have another cup of coffee if the two men hadn't drunk it all. It wasn't a long break, just twenty minutes, but that was enough. As she left the courtroom, she studied Christian Hobbs. Just from the outside, he seemed good-looking enough and it wasn't hard to believe that Justin had found him attractive. Unfortunately for Justin, that momentary attraction had had dire consequences and she knew that he regretted it, had probably regretted it the first time Chris Hobbs had struck out at him in the locker room. Making her way upstairs, she paused to speak to one of her colleagues and then strolled down to her office and pushed open the door.

Justin leapt from Brian's lap guiltily and began straightening his clothes. She gave them an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused," Brian said straight-faced. Unlike Justin, he had no shame.

"Don't get smart with me." She brushed past Justin who had taken his seat and sat with his hands in his lap to hide an erection. Which did nothing for the fact that his lips were swollen (as were Brian's) and his face and neck were flushed. Suppressing the urge to laugh, she continued to chastise them. "What if that had been someone else?"

"Who else would have come into your office without knocking except you?" Brian asked, determined not to back down on the issue and implying that she was in the wrong by not knocking.

The point was not lost on her. "Listen up, this is a public building, which means people might just come and go without knocking or they may knock and come in without waiting for an answer. So behave. Got it?"

Justin ducked his head. "Yes, ma'am. I mean, yes," he corrected himself having gotten the 'I'm not a ma'am,' speech once before.

She waited for Brian to answer. He looked dead in her eyes and said nothing. "I'm waiting," she finally said.

"Fine," he replied and crossed his legs and examined his nails as if he didn't care in the least bit one way or the other.

"Is it done?" Justin asked despite the fact that she had told them it would take two days probably to pick a jury.

"Break." She understood it was nervousness that prompted him to ask.

He glanced at Brian before asking, "Is Chris Hobbs in there?"

"Yes." When it appeared that he wouldn't ask any more about the defendant, Keisha poured a cup of coffee and stirred about a teaspoon of creamer and a couple teaspoons of sugar in it. Took a grateful sip. "Mmm, that's good."

"Viennese Roast?" Brian asked.

"Yep."

He pursed his lips. "Not bad. Least it's not fuckin' Starbucks. I hate Starbucks."

Shaking her head at the audacity of the man, she chuckled. "I'll try and remember that the next time I'm out buying coffee." Checked her watch. "We'll be breaking for lunch around 12:30. What do you guys want? There's Mitchell's Restaurant nearby, Sammy's Famous Corned Beef, Au Bon Pain, Dingbats, and the Apollo Cafe."

Justin waited for Brian to shoot down every one of her suggestions.

"I'm Irish, so the last thing I want is corned beef. Mitchell's is overrated and not worth the money. Au Bon Pain, well, that's just too easy. And the Apollo Cafe- - beneath my radar."

She'd noticed he hadn't said anything about Dingbats. "And Dingbats?"

"I don't care."

Wondering if Justin had to put up with His Big and Badness' attitude about everything all the time and amazed at how he managed to do it without killing him, Keisha decided the teenager had to be a saint. And then she remembered that Justin was an eighteen-year-old college student and Brian was a thirty-year-old advertising executive and she couldn't begin to imagine the number of times Brian probably had to compromise about something Justin wanted to do and she amended her judgement: neither one of them was a saint, they were just in love. "Well," she said, "I guess it's Dingbats. If you don't have any objections?" she asked Justin. He shook his head. Probably didn't want to cause any more trouble after being caught making out. Smiling, she gathered her papers and dug out a menu. "Here. Decide what you want and call it in around noon. Give them my name. Order a tuna griddle sandwich for me. I'll pick everything up when we recess and bring it back here."

Tired of being cooped up, Justin asked, "Can't we go outside? Just for a little while?"

"We'll go down to the courtyard to eat. Okay?"

"Okay."

Pausing at the door, she said, "Next time I'll knock."

Justin giggled and Brian punched him in the arm. "Told you," the teen said as she left. Brian crooked his finger. 

 

**11:05 a.m.**

The Clerk brought forward an easel with a series of questions written on it. Kramer instructed the jury to, "Please stand, in turn, starting with the person in the first chair, and state your name, address, occupation, marital status, and the names and ages of any children you have."

One by one the members of the jury panel stood and gave the information asked. A couple of people stumbled over the information and the others laughed but not maliciously, just relieved that it hadn't been them. Only one person caught her attention: Malcolm Stanley. Gay. Like Brian, Keisha took pride in her gaydar and she pegged Malcolm Stanley as gay from the moment he first opened his mouth. It'd be interesting to see if Mason picked up on it and if he'd try to get the man dismissed for cause. Certainly, if she were the defense attorney, and she suspected he was gay, she'd reserve one of her peremptory challenges for him and hope he'd get dismissed for cause instead. Not that a gay man couldn't be open-minded about a gay bashing, she just wouldn't bet on it. At least not a lot of money.

Continuing on, Kramer inquired if they'd ever been the victim of a crime or if any of their close friends or relatives had ever been a victim of a crime. A man raised his hand and said that he'd been mugged in Central Park once on a visit to New York and that the police had never found the person who'd done it. "I had a hundred and thirty dollars in my wallet, driver's license, credit cards, and a picture of my mother that was irreplaceable."

"Do you think that experience prejudiced you against persons accused of crimes?"

"No, just against the guy that took my wallet."

Keisha held back her laughter as several of the jurors laughed.

Another man said a friend of his had been killed several years ago by a drunk driver. The mood turned sober, with persons lowering their eyes, as if merely looking at the speaker would some how infect them with the sadness he obviously still felt regarding his friend.

"Did it go to trial?"

"Yes, sir."

"And did you witness the trial?"

"Yes, sir. Went everyday."

"Did you form any opinions about the criminal justice system as a result of that experience?"

"Well, it came out that the guy had been arrested before for drunk driving and they let him off with a fine instead of taking away his license and then he went out and did it again and killed my friend." Several of the other jurors looked down as the man related that bit of information. "So, I guess I would say I don't think the system worked that first time around."

"Do you believe that the system works in other instances?"

"Yes, sir. They sent him to prison for killing my friend. Vehicular manslaughter. So it worked that time."

"Do you believe that the system only works if someone is convicted of a crime?"

"Well, why would they bother to have a trial if the person hadn't done something?"

Judge Kramer paused and addressed all of the jurors. "The law requires the Commonwealth to prove the defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. The defendant is presumed innocent by the law which means the defendant doesn't have to prove his innocence or produce any evidence to support his innocence. The burden of proof is on the prosecution. Is there anyone who doesn't understand what that means?" One woman raised her hand a little tentatively so he explained, "It means that it's up to the prosecution to prove that the defendant is guilty. The onus is on the Commonwealth to produce any evidence to prove that guilt. The defendant is not even required to testify in his defense. Now, does anyone feel that the fact that the defendant doesn't have to testify is evidence of his guilt?" A man responded positively. "Could you explain your views?"

"Well, if the defendant didn't have anything to hide, he'd testify."

"But you understand," Kramer emphasized, "that the defendant is not required to testify?"

"Yes, sir, I do. I just don't believe that an innocent person would have anything to hide."

Mason stood. "Challenge for cause, Your Honor."

"Thank you for your honesty, juror 16. I am going to excuse you from serving as a juror on this case." The Clerk called a replacement and the judge spent a couple of minutes bringing that person up to speed. Once he had solicited answers to his previous questions, he returned to the idea of burden of proof. "Now, with regard to the Commonwealth's obligation to provide all of the evidence of guilty, does anyone feel that this is too great a burden or responsibility for the Commonwealth?" Negative. "Do any of you feel that the fact that the defendant is charged with this offense is some evidence of his guilt?" No one raised their hand. "I would instruct you that the fact that the defendant has been charged with an offense and is on trial here today is not evidence of his guilt. It is, in fact, not evidence at all." He turned back to the juror he'd been questioning. "Now, do you still feel that the fact that the defendant is on trial is evidence of his guilt?"

"No, sir, I suppose not." The man looked a little hang-dogged but Keisha would have bet that there had been more than a few of them who'd felt the same way before the judge had instructed them.

Noting Mason making a tick mark by the man's name, Keisha figured he'd been placed on a list for dismissal by peremptory challenge.

Having listened to all of the responses regarding being victims of a crime, the judge then asked if any of the jurors or any of their close friends or relatives had ever been accused, arrested, or convicted of a crime. Four persons raised their hands and the court and the attorneys listened to the responses but none of the crimes were related to the current case, mostly misdemeanors or simple assault charges. One of the jurors had a friend who'd been in jail more than once for burglary but never for armed robbery. "He's afraid of guns, Your Honor," was the man's explanation.

On the flip side, no one had a close friend or family member who'd been involved in law enforcement or had been in law enforcement themselves. The woman who'd served on the sexual harassment jury was a member of a neighborhood watch that mostly met and had coffee and pastries and complained about one of the absent neighbors' annoying dog.

Keisha checked the time. It was getting close to twelve thirty and they still hadn't had an opportunity to question the jurors. She raised her eyes, waiting. The judge had just asked if anyone had any sympathy for or feeling against the defendant by reason of his race, sex, age, appearance, or because of the charges against him? None of the jurors responded in the positive. She watched Malcolm Stanley closely to see if he reacted to the question but he didn't. And she wasn't convinced that he didn't have strong feelings against Hobbs.

"I think this is a good place for us to stop and recess for lunch. When we return, I'll have some final questions for you after which the prosecution will have an opportunity to question the panel and then the defense will question you. Please remember that although you may leave the Courthouse, you're still under oath and, as such, I ask that you refrain from discussing the case with anyone, including one another. We'll reconvene at 1:30."

Gathering her belongings, Keisha hurried upstairs and this time knocked before she entered. But Brian and Justin were both sitting in their respective seats, Justin flipping through an old House Beautiful magazine she'd had laying around and Brian scribbling on a notepad, deep in thought. Exchanging her notebook for her purse, Keisha dashed out again before Brian or Justin had an opportunity to offer her money. They'd settle that later. Right now she wanted to get the food from Dingbats, get back, and eat before 1:30 came.

The crowd at Dingbats made her glad that she'd had them call ahead. Thankfully the food was ready and she paid for it and returned to the Courthouse within fifteen minutes. Not bad at all. As she'd promised, they took their food down to the interior courtyard and found a place to sit not far from the fountain. Brian had ordered a simple garden salad while Justin had gone for the Chicken Gorgonzola Salad but she noticed that Justin managed to coax Brian into eating some of the proscuitto and one of the marinated artichokes that came with the chicken. Keisha couldn't imagine that Brian had a weight problem as he seemed, to her, to be six three of nothing but skin and bone and muscle. Calling him slender would have been an understatement. Justin, although younger and shorter, was stockier. Of course, it might have just seemed that way because of that butt. More than once she had noticed it as they'd walked and smiled to herself. Just one more reason why the older man had fallen for the teen, she supposed. They certainly were a very photogenic pair. As they ate, she noticed people glancing at them. Whether they'd recognized them from the newspapers or television, she couldn't tell, but a couple of the people seemed to admire them just for their looks. She could tell. The way someone's eye would linger on Brian's lips and legs or Justin's smile and his perfect blond hair. And she wondered if the fact that they were a couple bothered any of their admirers or if it was a turn-on, imagining the two of them together. She had to admit her pulse had quickened just a bit when she'd come in on them. Putting any thoughts of them having sex out of her head, she smiled and reminded herself that she was there to convict Chris Hobbs, not put the make on the victim and his lover.

"Uh-oh," said Brian, "I feel sorry for Chris Hobbs."

Surprised that he had thought of Hobbs as well, she asked, "Why's that?"

"Cause you're smiling like a shark." He looked over at her from beneath half-lowered lids. "What sharp teeth you have."

"All the better to eat you with, my dear," she replied and he grinned.

"Why, counselor, is that a request?"

As she had said in his bedroom, she instructed him again: "Don't flirt with me."

He laughed and dodged Justin's poke in the ribs, catching the teen's hand in his and holding it. Then, as he realized where they were and why, he let go. Not abruptly, but he released him all the same.

Around one fifteen she herded them back upstairs despite Justin's protests and collected her notebook and the jury seating chart and questionnaires before returning to the courtroom.

With Keisha gone and lunch over, Brian grabbed his notepad and went back to jotting down notes on the Latham account. Although he'd left things in Bob and Brad's less-than-capable hands, he figured he'd check with them once a day regarding the account and give them feedback on their ideas. They were supposed to send over the mock-ups for the initial ad campaign this afternoon. He couldn't wait to get home. It'd do him good to tear into them in retaliation for having his day ruined by this fucking trial.

But even though he had the best intentions to work, Justin sabotaged those plans by taking out his sketch pad and starting to draw Brian. At first he tried to ignore the teen but after a while he found that he couldn't. So he stopped working. "Do you have to do that right now?"

"I'm bored."

"I suppose we should have brought the Leggo blocks after all."

Making a face, Justin turned the page on his sketch pad and began working on a sketch of Keisha's desk. Brian, satisfied that the teen's attention had been diverted, returned to his work. 

 

**1:30 p.m.**

After everyone had settled down, the judge turned to his last two questions. "Now, I'd like to direct your attention to the particulars of the case itself. The defendant, Christian Hobbs, is charged with aggravated assault with the intent to cause serious bodily injury on April 20, 2001 at the Regents Hotel. The defendant is alleged to have struck one Justin Taylor in the head with a baseball bat. As some of you may be aware, the attack was covered in the papers and on the news a great deal when the incident first happened and it's been back in the news recently with the advent of the trial. Have any of you seen, read, or heard anything about this case in the media?" All but four of the jurors raised their hands. "I'm going to ask each juror who raised his or her hand and the counsels for the prosecution and defense to approach the bench." Keisha got up and joined the named persons at the bench where Kramer questioned the first juror as to what she'd seen, read, or heard and where. She replied that she'd seen stories about the attack in the local Pittsburgh papers and on the news when it first happened and then September 11 came along and she'd forgotten about it, but then about a week ago she began noticing the papers and the news covering the attack and the upcoming trial again. Then he asked her if she'd formed an opinion about the case.

"Well, Your Honor, it's kind of hard not to. I mean, there was a witness and everything and no one ever said that the defendant denied doing it. I even read somewhere where a nurse or someone in the hospital said that Chris Hobbs said that he hoped the boy he hit would die."

"Do you think you'd be able to set aside your opinion and be fair to both sides?"

"To tell the truth, Your Honor, I don't think I could. I thought I could, but now I know I've just seen way too much about it."

Sending that person back, he called for the next and in that way questioned all twelve of the jurors. Although four of them said that they'd formed an opinion, three assured the judge that they would be able to set aside their opinions and be fair to both sides. Keisha mentally made a note of their names to put check marks by once she'd returned to her seat.

"Dismissal for cause?"

Mason asked that Jurors 1, 6, 10 and 14 be dismissed for cause. The named jurors were dismissed and four replacement jurors called. And again Kramer went through the previous questions put forth to the panel until the four new jurors were caught up with the rest.

Finally, the judge asked if anyone could think of any reasons why they couldn't be objective, fair, and impartial to both sides. When no one replied, he said, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, the Assistant District Attorney is going to ask you some questions and when she's finished, the defense attorney will have the opportunity to do the same."

Keisha checked her watch. It was about two thirty. Aware that all eyes were on her, she stood and went around the table and took up a position about two feet away from the jury box. Before speaking a word, she looked each one of them in the eye, forging a connection with all of them, even with the ones who could only sustain a brief contact. One or two of the jurors gave her the impression that they didn't wholeheartedly approve of her. Not blatantly racist, just suspicious of a relatively young woman who happened to be black; how many strikes was that against her?

"Ladies and gentlemen, how many of you feel that everyone in America is entitled to equal protection under our laws? That everyone should be treated fairly under the law? Raise your hand if you feel this way." When they had all raised their hands, she asked, "What if that person is African American?" No one lowered their hands. "Hispanic?" Still no dodgers. "What if that person is a non-English speaker? A senior citizen. A child?" She could tell a few of them were getting tired of holding up their hands, but she wasn't done. "What if that person was a woman? How about a teenager?" A couple of the men looked at one another as if they couldn't believe she'd be so dense. She knew the look. Intended to turn the heat up on them. "What if that person is a drug addict? A crackhead. I'm sure you've all heard that phrase. Maybe on Law and Order? How about heterosexuals?" Malcolm Stanley smiled and one of the women near him looked around as if she hadn't heard correctly. "Are straight people entitled to equal protection under the law? What if the victim happens to be gay or straight?" She swept her eyes across the two rows of jurors. No one lowered their hand although the eyes had begun to glance around furtively, hoping, she knew, that someone else would put their hand down and make it okay. "I want you to be honest, ladies and gentlemen, because this is important. Everyone, no matter what their race, ethnicity, religion, sexuality, or financial status is entitled to equal protection under American law. Do we all agree to that?"

"Except for Osama Bin Laden," someone said and the other jurors laughed, grateful to release some of the tension that had built up.

Keisha nodded, "Well, we've got the Hague Court for that." She decided to release them. "All right, you can put your hands down." They all did. "As Judge Kramer told you earlier, my name is Keisha Thomas and I'm the Assistant District Attorney that will be presenting the Commonwealth's evidence in this case. Now, we don't have a lot of time together, so I'm just going to ask you straight out about some of the issues of this case. I'm not going to be cute, and we're going to talk about some things that might make you uncomfortable. I'm not going to lie to you about that. But I have to bring them up because I need to make sure that you can be fair, that you can be impartial, and that you can listen to the evidence presented and come up with a verdict based on the evidence.

"Now, the facts of the case. Judge Kramer told you that the defendant, Christian Hobbs, was charged with striking Justin Taylor in the head with a baseball bat. What he didn't tell you is that it's the Commonwealth's position that the defendant attacked the victim because Justin Taylor was gay. Not only is Justin gay, but his boyfriend was a witness to the attack. That's what this case is about: gay bashing."

Mason fairly leapt from his seat. "Objection, Your Honor, the defendant is charged with aggravated assault. There is no law on the books regarding 'gay bashing.' "

"Your Honor, the victim was gay and he was struck or bashed with a baseball bat." She held her breath. Even she thought that was a little precious.

"Objection sustained."

Well, she'd got it out in the open at least. Smoothly, as if she hadn't been interrupted, Keisha continued. "Just a few moments ago, all of you said that you believed everyone was entitled to equal protection under the law regardless of race, ethnicity," each of them she ticked off and watched them for reactions, "religion, sexuality, or financial status. So if you're offended by homosexuality, if the idea of two men or two women being involved sexually bothers you, then you need to let me know because you're going to hear a great deal of testimony regarding the victim's sexuality." No one moved, some of the jurors looked, however, mortified.

"How many of you have never, to your knowledge, associated with anyone who was gay or lesbian?" A man in the second row raised his hand. "But you've heard about homosexuals, about gay and lesbian persons? Maybe seen them on TV or in the movies?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what have you heard? Or seen?"

The man looked distinctly uncomfortable. "That they're not like regular people."

"How do you mean? Do you mean straight people?"

"Yes."

"Well, gay men sleep with other men so I guess that's correct. Is that what you mean?"

"No, ma'am. Although that's true. I mean, that gay men sleep around."

"Have you ever known a man who slept around?" She didn't ask him about himself.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Was he gay?"

"No, ma'am."

"What else have you heard about gay people?"

"That they molest children."

"How many of you remember that case last year, little Melissa Roberts," Keisha asked, referring to a local case of child molestation and murder. They all raised their hands. It'd been on the news everyday for six months. "Was she molested by a lesbian?"

"No, ma'am," the man replied.

"She was molested and killed by a male relative, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So we've established that regular people, that straight people, sleep around and molest children." She waited for the information to sink in and made note of the ones who seemed angered by her statement. "Now, I want to ask you a hard question and I want you to think about it before answering. Would the fact that the victim and one of the key witnesses in this case are gay render you unable or unwilling to be fair to the Commonwealth? And be honest. We're not here to pass judgement on you." Three people, including one of the Hispanic men, raised their hands. "Your Honor, I'd like to dismiss jurors 4, 7, and 11 for cause."

Kramer, barely keeping a sigh in check, dismissed and thanked the three jurors and instructed the Clerk to replace them. Once three new persons had been called forward, he went through his set of questions again and discovered that one of the two new persons had actually gone to high school with Coach Smithers, so that person was dismissed for cause and replaced.

Now that her attention could waver from the jurors, Keisha took the opportunity to observe Christian Hobbs. Although he had maintained his composure during the questions, she could tell he hadn't been unaffected. Even now Mason spoke hurriedly to him and she saw him grasp Hobbs' arm briefly. Too bad she couldn't hear what they were saying but she didn't need to, not really. Hobbs was getting his first taste of what it was going to be like during the trial and she could guess he wasn't too pleased with the issues that were going to be covered. She couldn't believe Mason hadn't warned him. Then again, if everything Justin had told her about Hobbs was correct, he probably hadn't believed his attorney.

The moment the court finished questioning the new jurors she addressed them and queried them regarding Justin's sexual orientation and its impact on the trial. When none of them admitted that it would impact their ability to render a fair and impartial verdict, she approached the idea of Justin's being gay from a slightly different angle. "We've established that the victim is gay. Although he's not on trial there are certain issues that have to be discussed. How many of you would enjoy sitting on the witness stand, " she pointed to it, "and talking about your sexual orientation? What you do in bed and with whom?"

Mason stood. "Objection, Your Honor, this is not a case about a sex crime."

"But it is, Your Honor. It's the Commonwealth's position that the victim was attacked because he was gay, because of whom he had sex with. And the jury's going to hear more about gay sex than they ever wanted to know or were afraid to ask. Justice demands that these jurors be able to be objective about that."

"Overruled."

Keeping her face neutral, she turned back to the jurors. "Would anyone have a problem listening to a witness give explicit testimony regarding sexual matters?" When a couple of people raised their hands, she asked, "Would it bother you to the point where you wouldn't be able to listen objectively?"

"I don't know," the man said. "I just know I don't want to hear any details. I don't mind that people are gay, I just don't want to know about it."

"Do you feel the same?" she asked the woman.

"I believe so."

"Your Honor, I'd like to dismiss jurors 8 and 14 for cause."

And again they went through the process of replacing the jurors and the judge asking his questions before Keisha was able to question them. Meanwhile, it was getting close to three thirty. Two days, she'd called it. Finally, when she felt the issue of Justin's sexual orientation had been covered adequately enough, she moved to the second explosive issue of the trial: his relationship with Brian. "Ladies and gentlemen, you've heard that the victim, Justin Taylor, is gay. Now, there's something else I want you to know about him, no beating around the bush, and I need to know if it's going to affect your ability to sit on this trial as well. How many of you have heard the expression "May-December romance'?" Almost everyone raised their hand. "Could someone explain what it means?"

A lady on the first row, far end from Keisha, said, "It means when one person in a relationship is much older than the other person."

"Thank you. That's exactly right. Remember I told you Justin has a boyfriend and his boyfriend witnessed the attack. Well, Justin Taylor is eighteen and in college and his boyfriend is thirty. When they met, Justin was seventeen and his boyfriend was twenty-nine. Now, there's no issue of legality here, Justin was legal when they met, because legal in Pennsylvania is sixteen. But there is a twelve year difference in their ages." She glanced at her notes and singled out juror 10. "Juror 10, you indicated that you were married. Is there an age difference?"

"No, ma'am," he replied. "We graduated high school together."

She smiled. "Juror 5, is there a difference is ages between you and your husband?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going to ask you how much but I do want to know this: if your husband were five years older or younger than you, do you think it would have made a difference to your failing in love with him?"

"No, ma'am."

"What if he were seven or eight years older than you?"

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Your Honor, I believe the question of age is an important one. After all the victim was attacked leaving a high school prom. But if the defense will agree never to bring up this point, I'm more than willing to drop it."

"Overruled. But," he said to Keisha, "I think your point has been made. Ask your question and move on, counselor, your time is running out."

"Yes, Your Honor." She addressed the jury panel. "You've just heard me say that the victim was attacked leaving a high school prom. Justin's prom, of course. Would that fact affect your ability to be fair in this case?" No one responded. "Would the fact that there is a twelve-year age difference between the victim and his boyfriend, who is a key witness to the attack, affect your ability to be fair in this case? If anyone feels that way, please let me know because that age difference isn't going anywhere and you're going to see them together in court, you're going to listen to each of them give testimony, and I don't want any prejudice or bias to affect your ability to listen objectively to that testimony and to weigh the facts in this case. Can everyone here do that?" When she didn't see any hands go up, she addressed the bench. "No more questions, Your Honor."

By then, it was about three-forty. Deciding they'd all needed it, Kramer called a short recess, ten minutes, no more, and admonished the jury members to be prompt in their return to the courtroom.

Since there wasn't really time to run upstairs, Keisha sat at her table and made notes on each of the remaining jurors. With only four peremptory challenges available to her, she had to use them carefully. Having tried to dismiss for cause anyone with blatant issues regarding Justin's homosexuality and the age differences, she had to pay particular attention to the answers the jurors gave to Mason's questions in case someone revealed a reason for dismissal for cause. There were only a couple of people that she had gut instincts about but nothing major, nothing that said she had to get them off the jury panel.

Court reconvened and Mason left his table to begin his questioning. Looking at him, she could barely keep a sneer from her face. What a pompous asshole. It'd figure the Hobbs family would have retained him. Expensive and not above grandstanding in the worst Johnny Cochran fashion, he was exactly what the defendant needed to try and muddy the issues, to distract the jurors' attention from the facts in the case. If Kramer didn't keep a tight rein on him, Mason was capable of turning the trial into a circus sideshow. So far, the judge had shown, in her opinion, good judgement and she had no problems with his rulings, even the ones that had gone against her. She just hoped he continued to keep a firm hand on the proceedings once the evidence phase of the trial began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Raymond Mason and I'm the counsel for the defense. I want you to know that I agree with the Assistant District Attorney. On one point. All persons are entitled to equal protection under the law. I believe that wholeheartedly. What I don't believe is that some persons are entitled to more than equal protection under the law. Right now, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania has no statute or law granting homosexuals special protection under the law. In other words, crimes against homosexuals are treated the same as crimes against straight people."

Keisha tightened her lips. That's the way she would have done if she'd been defending Hobbs.

"So if a homosexual is robbed, the perpetrator is tried the same as if he'd robbed a straight person. If a homosexual is involved in a car accident, he's treated the same as if he were a straight person. If a homosexual is assaulted, it's treated the same as if a straight person were assaulted. Now, does everyone understand that? That the law grants equal protection to all persons, and does not single out homosexuals as being more worthy of special protection than you or me."

Keisha watched as Malcolm Stanley's eyes went hard. There was currently being debated in the Pennsylvania House of Representatives, anti-hate crime legislation. After a tough fight, the Senate had passed to approve the legislation and it had gone to the House where opposition was expected to be just as fierce.

"So. Does anyone on the panel believe that homosexuals should be granted special protection under the law?"

Still watching Malcolm, Keisha willed him to remain calm and quiet. But, of course, the man couldn't. He raised his hand.

"Yes?" asked Mason, solicitously.

"I don't think it's a matter of being granted special protection. It's that some crimes are motivated by hatred of homosexuals, the same way there are racially motivated crimes. And there is a law against that."

"But the current law doesn't include homosexuals, does it?"

"No."

"And you believe that it should?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe you would be able to sit in judgement of the defendant based on the facts of the case and not allow your personal beliefs to color said judgement?"

Malcolm was silent for a moment. Keisha marked him off the jury list. Either for cause or through peremptory challenge, he was gone. "No," he said softly. "I guess I wouldn't."

Addressing the rest of the jury panel, Mason repeated his question. "Does anyone else believe that homosexuals should be granted special protection under the law?"

A woman raised her hand, her eyes not quite meeting Mason's.

"Yes, ma'am. Could you tell the court why?"

"Well, it's just that after Matthew Shepard-"

"Your Honor, I would ask that juror 4 and 9 be dismissed for cause."

Keisha could tell that some of the jurors felt that Mason had been rude, but she understood. The last thing he wanted was to color the issues with any discussion of Matthew Shephard. Too prejudicial. He shouldn't have asked her to explain herself but Keisha was sure he'd just wanted another opportunity to showboat. Well, that nearly blew up in his face. Still a chance that it might as now the issue was out on the table. The name had been mentioned and it had to be on their minds. The horrific murder and the fact that Justin bore a resemblance to the slain college student.

So Malcolm and juror 9 were dismissed and the other jurors waited while they were replaced and the new jurors were questioned by the judge, Mason, and Keisha.

A little after four o'clock. Less than an hour to go.

Looking somewhat pleased but a little chagrined too, Mason continued. "I don't recall if it's been mentioned yet in court, but the defendant and the victim were students at St. James Academy when the assault allegedly occurred. For those of you who don't know, St. James Academy is a private school. Almost all of the students who attend St. James come from well-to-do families, upper middle class to upper class families. Now, a little bit of envy is natural but I need to know if the fact that Christian Hobbs comes from an upper class family bias anyone against him." No one said anything. "Does anyone believe that rich people are able to get away with something because they're wealthy and can afford high priced lawyers like myself." As he'd intended a couple people laughed but the remaining Hispanic man on the jury panel raised his hand. "Yes, sir, do you believe that wealthy people have it better in court than poor people?"

"Yes, I do."

"And do you believe this would prevent you from being fair and impartial to my client, Christian Hobbs?"

"No. It might not be true in this case. Not all rich people get off."

Raising an eyebrow, Keisha smiled. The only way Mason would be able to get rid of him was through a peremptory challenge. But she put a tick mark by his name because she figured no way would Mason risk it.

"St. James is also a religious-affiliated institution. Would that fact affect you?"

She didn't expect that it would. Now, if it had been Catholic

"All right. I'd like to mention that one of the issues in this case is the idea of intent. The judge will instruct you on the charges once the voir dire stage is over but I just want to mention that the intent of the defendant will be very important to the outcome of this trial. Let me ask you something. How many people like chocolate?" Some of the members laughed but most people raised their hands. "Now, let's say you had chocolate on the first of the month and then two days later and then a week later and then five days later. So that's four times you had chocolate in a month and you told yourself, that's it, no more. Now, let's say you were running late for a meeting and you hadn't had any lunch and you asked a coworker if they had anything and all they had was chocolate. So you ate it. So your intent was not to have chocolate but it just happened. Can everyone understand that?" A lot of people nodded. "Now, do you think it's possible to have a history of doing something and still not intend to commit that act again?" Most people nodded. "Do you think committing the act itself is the same as intending to commit the act?" A man raised his hand. "Yes, sir?"

"But you had an opportunity not to eat the chocolate. No one forced you to eat it."

 _Yes!_ thought Keisha. And then, _You're gone._

"I agree. No one forced you to eat it. But, remember, the issue isn't whether or not you did eat it, it's whether or not you intended to eat it. Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"Does anyone else have a problem separating intent from the act itself?"

Another juror raised her hand. "I don't think it makes any difference."

"You mean you don't think intent is an issue?"

"No, I mean whether you intended to or not, you did it. So it doesn't matter what your intent was."

Mason turned to Kramer. "Your Honor, I'd like to dismiss juror sixteen for cause."

After dismissing juror sixteen and going through the entire replacement rigmarole with both Kramer and Keisha questioning the juror, the clock steadily inched towards four forty-five. Mason was given the opportunity to question the new juror about issues he'd already raised but as soon as he was done with that and about to begin with a new topic, Kramer stopped him.

"I think this is a good place to stop for today. When we reconvene tomorrow, Mr. Mason will resume questioning the panel and we'll continue until we've selected a jury. Please remember, ladies and gentlemen, that you are all under oath, even those jurors who have not been called to the box. This means you are to refrain from discussing the case, or from reading any newspaper or magazine articles about the case, and from watching any news stories or any other televised items about the case. Thank you for your cooperation. Court is adjourned until 9:00 a.m. tomorrow." 

 

When the day's session ended, Keisha sent the guys home. Having sat in her office most of the day, they were anxious to go back to the loft. Before they headed downstairs, she called them a cab, and they waited until it was scheduled to arrive, then braced themselves for a final push through the crowds which was composed mostly of the press, the demonstrators having given up and gone to their own homes to rest up for another day. For which Brian and Justin were eternally grateful. Climbing into the cab, Brian was surprised to see that it was the driver from that morning. As he'd remembered the man's earlier disapproval, and needing to release some tension, he said sarcastically, "This just isn't your day, is it?"

Amazingly, the man replied, "I'm sorry about this morning. I guess I had kind of an attitude."

Unsure as to why the man had had an apparent change of heart, Brian was, nevertheless, willing to let bygones be bygones. "Whatever." No one said he had to be gracious about it. Justin, for his part, said nothing, wanting to get home as quickly as possible and let go of this day.

But the driver continued to talk as he drove. "Must be tough. Getting that coming and going," he said, indicating the media.

"Yeah, well, what can you do?" Brian asked, hoping the guy would drop it. He thought he liked him better when he'd only scowled. Maybe he should have tipped him less. Testing the man's newfound goodwill, Brian reached for Justin's hand and held it, fingers entwined. The teen glanced over at him and smiled.

The guy grabbed a card from the dashboard and handed it back to Brian. "Willie, that's me. You need a lift, I'm your man."

When he saw that Brian wasn't going to take it, Justin did. "Thanks."

"I don't have much to do with gay people, " Willie said, "but today I went home and my son was there, out on some kind of a teacher work day, and I told him about picking you up. And he said, 'That could have been me.'"

Justin was instantly alert. "What could have been him?"

"You. With some guy at school picking on him." Willie hesitated. "Because he's gay." Shook his head. "I never knew. I mean, maybe I suspected, but I didn't know for sure. Guess I didn't really want to know. But now I do."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Justin asked.

"Still my kid," Willie replied. "Got a right arm you wouldn't believe. Pitches on his high school team. Smart too. Graduates next year. Hoping he'll get a scholarship."

"I hope he does too."

After that Willie fell quiet, the traffic, having picked up a little, demanding all of his attention but as he dropped them off in front of their building, reporters blocking the way, he punched his horn angrily and yelled out the window, "Get the fuck out of the way or I'll mow you down. Goddamn vultures." The reporters gave him some room.

Brian shook his head in admiration of Willie's style. "Tomorrow. Eight o'clock."

"Sure thing."

As they disembarked, Justin waved goodbye and then rushed inside once Brian got the door opened. The doorman stood by impassively, six feet of grey-suited quiet menace. After the fiasco last Monday, no one was getting past him without having first submitted DNA, he was that thorough.

Leaving Justin to lock the door, Brian checked the answering machine for messages. Hit the play button while he went through the mail. Most of the calls were from their friends and family asking about their day at the courthouse. One was from Cynthia telling him Ryder was going to kill Bob and Brad, and one was from Bob and Brad begging him to give them a call because they needed help and wouldn't be able to send him anything on the Latham account until tomorrow. Ignoring all the messages, Brian tossed the mail unopened upon the desk and went to change his clothes. Justin was already out of his and stood in his briefs. Not intending to play for long, Brian enveloped him in a hug and kissed him softly, then released him.

But Justin had other ideas. Letting Brian remove his coat and shoes, Justin sidled up behind him and wrapped his arms around Brian's waist.

"Baby. . ."

"Shut up," Justin ordered and the man obeyed and started to turn around. "Be still." Brian stopped.

Curious as to where this was going but willing to let Justin lead, Brian swallowed any further objections or comments and waited for Justin to make the next move.

Slowly, Justin ran his hand down Brian's torso, and over his groin. Locating his penis beneath layers of cloth, Justin began stroking him. He'd been waiting all day for this, for the opportunity to touch Brian in private. The kissing they'd done in Keisha's office had only whet his appetite, not satisfied it. Pressing his face against his lover's shirt between his shoulders, he inhaled his scent. Brian used the lightest of colognes as if not wanting anything to compete with his natural fragrance. He always smelled good; even after he'd been running on the treadmill, his musty odor drove Justin wild. As did the sweat gleaming on his skin.

Brian felt his cock responding to the teen's motions, stiffening as the blood rushed to his pelvic area. In a few minutes a wet spot would appear over the head and soon after that he'd have to come out his pants because his dick wouldn't have it any other way. But he wasn't too worried about being freed because already Justin was unbuttoning his shirt. The trousers would soon be next.

Sliding his hand inside Brian's shirt, Justin tweaked his nipple and heard the man gasp. He continued to pinch and tease the aureole of flesh until it drew to a hard nub. Leaving that one, he turned his attention to the other nipple until it too stood out from Brian's chest. Even better, the teen could feel Brian's prick lengthening, thickening beneath his hand. It pressed against the inside of Brian's underwear, tenting the front of his pants. His own cock was stirring too, growing heavier and more sensitive. Like a rutting animal, he rubbed his crotch against the back of Brian's thigh and sighed, the sensation going through him like an electric current.

 _Any moment,_ he thought, _I'm going to start moaning_. Brian bit his lip to keep the sound from escaping and squeezed his eyes shut. If Justin didn't release him soon, he was certain he was going to come right inside his briefs, staining his new trousers, especially now as the teen had begun to use both hands to knead and ply his cock. It tingled and throbbed and ached. Having sworn to himself not to, Brian begged Justin to let him go. "Justin," he pleaded. "I can't- -"

"Shh," the boy replied and he undid the button on the waistband of Brian's trousers. Took hold of the zipper and slowly, unhurriedly, began drawing it downwards.

Brian almost groaned. He was so hard, even the sound of the zipper acted as an aphrodisiac, sending pulses racing up his cock and throughout his body. His neck and check felt flushed and he'd begun to breathe faster. Suddenly burning up, he squirmed in Justin's arms to try and remove his shirt.

The teen stopped unzipping him and helped. Drew the shirt over his muscular shoulders and back. Only, he left the tie on.

Brian didn't question him, glad to be rid of the hot shirt. The cool air on his skin felt good, distracted him for a moment from his erection. But not for long as it began to throb once more.

Justin returned to his task and completed the job, bringing the zipper to the end of its track. He pulled the two halves of the fly back, then reached in and encircled Brian's cock with his fingers. But instead of freeing him from the cotton briefs, Justin started stroking him again.

Brian did moan then, and his pisshole opened and the cloth over his cock head became wet with precum.

Encountering the spot, Justin released Brian and pushed the man's trousers down around his hips. Gently, he reached in and withdrew Brian's dick from his underwear. Heard his lover sigh. Kneeling, Justin pulled off both the briefs and the trousers. Stood and stripped free of his remaining piece of clothing. Then, eyes fixed on Brian's, he removed the tie from his neck and wrapped it once around the man's cock and balls. Holding one end in either hand, he pulled, first one way, then the other, the silk material sliding around his lover's genitals and cutting off his breath.

His head swam and he was dizzy with lust. The silk tie was a most exquisite torture and he was certain that the Marquis de Sade must have dreamt it up inside his prison cell and committed it to paper in order to instruct future generations. Precum dripped from his cock as Justin continued to work the tie around him and he imagined erupting while Justin held the tie in his hands, coming on the boy's stomach.

Only Justin had other plans. He was hard and wet as well and strands of precum streaked his thighs. Releasing the tie, he removed it from Brian's hard-on and eased the man onto the bed. Brian lay on his back. Then, as thoroughly as he'd stroked him, Justin began licking him. Holding Brian's cock upright by the base, Justin's tongue flittered about the shaft and head, darting around the rigid column of flesh. Using only the tip of his tongue, he traced the veins in his man's cock from just above his balls to just below the fleshy head. Pressed closed his mouth and sucked on the area around one such vein, sucked on it until the skin was red and Brian was moaning, writhing about on the bed, the tendons in his thighs taut, his small, firm buttocks rising from the mattress. Justin engulfed the peak and rotated his head so that the tip of Brian's penis rubbed against all of the inside surfaces of his mouth, leaving traces of precum from tongue to roof. Letting him go, Justin spat upon Brian's dick and licked the shaft, spreading saliva along the length of him. Spat again and licked, and again until Brian glistened from tip to root. And then Justin took him inside his mouth once more, the swollen organ sliding with ease between his lips as the teen pleasured them both.

Brian panted as Justin sucked him, hands entwined in his own hair making it look as if he'd just awakened from a week-long sleep, saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth, back arched. He slumped to the bed, then fought against Justin's grip, but the teen kept him down, his capable hands pressing against the man's hipbones, holding him in place as his lips slid up and down and around the his cock. Finally Justin allowed him to slip free with a sucking sound. His dick slapped against his belly, balls firm and drawn up along the shaft. Justin's tongue and lips rooted between his cheeks. He raised his legs and caught them in his hands, held them up and open while Justin lapped at his hole. Over and over the teenager's tongue washed the wrinkled pucker until his dark, rosy skin shone. The edges tensed and released as Justin rimmed him, loosening him up with each foray until finally he'd relaxed enough for the tip of Justin's tongue to enter him.

"Uhhh!" he groaned and inhaled deeply, raggedly exhaled. Justin curled his tongue inside of him and the tip touched the roof of his hole sending him into convulsions. Head lolling about on the bed, body drenched in sweat, he moaned, "Fuck me." God, he wanted it so badly, wanted to feel Justin's thick cock buried in his ass. "Fuck me," he repeated but there was no need as the teen was more than willing and ready to mount him without further delay. He lifted his legs and laid them over Justin's shoulders, reached down and held onto the boy's hips, holding him in place as his body accustomed itself to being filled. And then Justin began to withdraw.

Toes curling, Brian sucked in a draught of air as Justin's cock backed up inside his hole and then changed direction again, the thick tube of meat plowing into him. Involuntarily, his muscles tensed and held Justin in place for a moment before surrendering and allowing the teen to thrust and withdraw as he pleased.

Brian's hole was so slick, so slippery, so warm, the puffy lips sucking the length of his cock as he pulled away and kissing him as he plunged forward, that Justin lost himself in the motion of fucking. Leaning forward, he supported himself on his hands and drove his dick into the man's hole furiously for a while, then slowed down, and with his cock buried to the hilt, merely rotated his hips. He could tell Brian was pleased by the way the man smiled at first, and then his mouth fell open and all he could do was moan. Justin pulled out completely amidst complaints from his lover but the sounds of complaint quickly turned to ones of contentment as Justin turned him over and entered him once more.

Cock hidden in the bedclothes, hard and aching, Brian groaned into the comforter as Justin fucked his ass with abandon. Each thrust jolted him. He raised his head and gave a cry, clenching his cheeks. Justin gasped in surprise, the tightening of Brian's hole around his cock sending him barreling headlong into his orgasm. Pumping his hips, he came, shooting his load up Brian's moist tunnel. He collapsed on top of Brian, still inside him, and tried to catch his breath. Then, begrudgingly, he withdrew completely. Brian's hole remained open and Justin could see traces of cum around the edges.

Brian rolled over and began pulling on his cock. Without being asked, Justin pushed two of his fingers inside the man and began fucking his already well-fucked ass. But Brian loved the additional attention. Gasping, he squeezed his muscles around Justin's fingers and tugged on his dick even harder. Justin's lips formed a seal around the head of Brian's penis and he waited for his thirst to be quenched. With a jerk, the man came, cum squirting inside the teen's mouth.

Sliding his fingers free, Justin swallowed, then kissed Brian's cock and sighed. That had been well worth the wait.

For once no one had interrupted them while they were making love and even if someone had knocked or called, they would have been out of luck this time as neither man had had any intention of stopping to find out what they wanted. But no one had rang or buzzed. Grateful for the time alone, they lay together, drowsily kissing until exhaustion claimed them and they slept. 

 

**Tuesday, November 13th**

**9:00 a.m.**

The two men settled in her office upstairs, Keisha prepared herself for round two of jury selection. Although Mason hadn't completed his questioning, she didn't anticipate any surprises, but it never paid to underestimate your opponent, especially one with ethics as slippery as Mason's. So she stayed on the alert.

Mason approached the jury box. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have one last issue I want to talk with you about. It's not a pretty topic but it's something that we need to address before any witnesses are called to give testimony. How many of you are familiar with date rape?"

She was on her feet so quickly she didn't know how she'd gotten there. "Objection, Your Honor. No evidence has been given or uncovered in this case regarding a rape of any kind."

"Your Honor, I believe counsel is aware of the incident to which I'm referring."

"I'm aware that mutual consent was given."

Mason corrected her. "My client never consented to anything."

Keisha repeated her objection. "Your Honor, again I object."

Kramer maintained an air of neutrality. "I believe that this issue is relevant to the case. Objection overruled. I'll allow questioning to continue along this line of inquiry but proceed cautiously, Mr. Mason."

"Yes, Your Honor. Now, as I was saying, how many of you are familiar with date rape?" Hands rose in the air. "How many of you believe that a person has a right to say 'No' at any time regardless of circumstances?" Most of the jurors raised their hands with three exceptions. Mason questioned the ones who'd abstained. "Juror 5, am I to understand that you believe a person doesn't have a right to say no at any time regardless of circumstances?"

"That's right."

"Could you explain what you mean?"

"Well," he said, "if a woman goes home with a guy and it's two a.m. and they're in the bed together naked, what else does she think she's there for, except to have sex?"

"Juror nine, is this how you feel?"

The woman nodded. "I think people get themselves into situations and then yell rape when they're caught."

Mason asked the last juror if she felt the same way and she agreed. "I think if you put yourself in a situation like that, then you know what you're asking for."

Of course, he asked Kramer to dismiss them for cause and they were replaced. Again, the judge went through his list of questions, then Keisha was allowed a reasonable amount of time to question the jurors that had been newly appointed to the panel. Finding no fault with any of them, she sat back down. Mason queried them on the areas he'd covered with the other jurors until he was back to his questions about date rape.

"Does anyone believe that every sexual encounter between two people is by mutual consent?" No one gave an indication that they thought so. "Does anyone believe that a man is incapable of being forced into having sex?" No one raised their hands. "Do you believe that physical size or strength means that a person can't be forced into having sex?" Again, no one admitted to believing that was so. Finally Mason had come to the end of his questions.

Judge Kramer then asked, "Challenges for Cause?"

"Pass for Cause, Your Honor," Keisha said.

"Pass for Cause, Your Honor," said Mason.

Turning to the prosecution first, Kramer asked, "Any peremptory challenges?"

Although she hadn't gotten a bad feeling from any of the remaining jurors, she'd had slight reservations about one woman who seemed to flinch whenever sex was mentioned. That was someone she'd rather not have on this particular jury given the graphic, sexual nature of some of the testimony. "Your Honor, I would like you to thank and excuse juror number twelve."

When he had finished excusing her, he turned to the defense and asked the same question. Of course, Mason asked to excuse the Hispanic man who'd made the comment about rich people making out better in court. That didn't come as a surprise at all to Keisha. Once the two jurors had been replaced, she and Mason had to wait while the judge went through all of his questions before they had a chance. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, one of the jurors was dismissed for cause as she told the judge, "I think homosexuality is an abomination before God." Keisha asked that she be dismissed and another juror was called up to take her place. Again, Kramer went through his questions and this time it seemed as if things were looking all right until he asked about their exposure to the media. Both jurors had read about the case voraciously and had definitely formed opinions about whether or not they thought Christian Hobbs was guilty. With something akin to relief, Mason asked that they both be dismissed.

By then, the remaining jurors began to get restless. It was about a half past ten so Kramer called a brief recess, fifteen minutes and not a minute more and again cautioned the jurors about being under oath.

Keisha took the opportunity to run to the Ladies' Room as she'd had one too many cups of coffee that morning having stayed up too late the night before working on her opening statement. It paid to be prepared. If they finished the jury selection this afternoon, the trial would begin immediately, which meant she had to be ready to go at a moment's notice. After leaving the bathroom, she ran upstairs to check on her charges. Found them innocently surfing the web for information about Europe. They'd told her that they were planning a fabulous, four-week vacation in the summer and she'd offered to let them use her computer during the voir dire as long as they didn't visit any gay porn sites.

Brian, of course, had said, "You might learn something."

"Are you close to being done?" Justin asked when he saw her.

"Maybe. Maybe not. You can never tell with jurors."

Justin turned to Brian. "You think we should call my mom and Deb, to let them know?"

"Yeah. The guys probably can't get off with this late notice, but at least your mom would be in there with you. I'll try Lindsay too, she might be home this afternoon."

Her time having slipped away, Keisha left them to make their calls and return to court.

For the next twenty minutes the judge questioned the two new jurors, then turned them over to Keisha who ended up asking for one of them to be dismissed for cause as the person had a definite attitude about "older men corrupting young boys." And the process began all over again. By eleven twenty-five, Mason had completed his questioning with no dismissals.

Again Kramer asked if there were any challenges for cause and there were none. Then he asked Keisha if she had any peremptory challenges.

She paused. Again, there was no one on the jury about whom she had strong feelings but she had an uneasy feeling about a man on the second row who seemed a bit too blasi about the whole thing. He'd answered his questions without reservation and gave good answers but something in the pit of her stomach told her not to trust him. "Your Honor, I'd like you to thank and excuse juror number fifteen."

Kramer dismissed the man and turned to Mason who asked that he dismiss juror number three.

Eleven thirty and they called two more people to the box. Keisha looked over at the jurors and began to see signs of fatigue. The process was, at best, boring to them. And they were probably sick of hearing the same questions over and over again. But it had to be done in order to insure that they had the best jury for this case. Within reason.

By the time she got finished questioning the two new jurors, Keisha had begun to believe that they might actually be able to go forward soon. She had no problems with the new jurors and with the removal of juror number fifteen, she'd gotten rid of the last of her gut instinct dismissals. There was really no need for her to use her other peremptory challenges. Of course, Mason could still exercise his remaining challenges based on hunches as well. She could only hope that he didn't and they could begin the evidence phase of the trial early this afternoon before they lost the jury's attention.

Mason sat down after questioning the two newest jurors without having challenged either of them for cause.

"Challenges for cause?" asked Kramer. Neither of the attorneys responded. "Any peremptory challenges?" he asked Keisha.

"No, Your Honor."

He asked the same of Mason.

"No, Your Honor."

 _Yes!_ thought Keisha.

Kramer announced, "We have a jury. I'd like to thank those jurors who were not called. We appreciate the time you took out of your busy schedules to participate in this process. I'd also like to thank those jurors who were excused, we appreciate your candor and your honesty in answering our questions. And, finally, I'd like to thank the members of the jury for their patience. Now, as it is twelve twenty, I'm going to recess for lunch for an hour and forty minutes. This may seem like a long time to all of you but the attorneys have things to do during this time as do I. We will reconvene at two o'clock at which time the jury will be sworn in again as the trial jury and the two counsels will present their opening statements. As the break is such a long one, I ask that all jurors be back in the courtroom promptly at two o'clock and ready to focus on the task ahead." 

 

**1:45 p.m.**

Alone, inside Keisha's office, the two lovers embraced one another, Justin's heart pounding as he contemplated going into the courtroom and facing Christian Hobbs- - without Brian. Facing the people in the courtroom, some of whom would be hostile towards him just because he was gay or because of Brian. Luckily they'd been able to spend the entire lunch recess together although they couldn't go out into the courtyard as too many people had shown up today in anticipation of the trial beginning and they knew they'd never be able to sit quietly in public. So they'd remained in Keisha's office while she went to a colleague's office to concentrate on her opening statement and to eat as well.

Now the time had come for them to part again.

The man raised the teen's face and kissed him gently. A soft smile curved Justin's lips and brightened his eyes. "I'll be waiting right here." Brian kissed him again. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Keisha knocked then opened the door. "Ready?"

Giving Brian a final kiss, Justin pulled away. Before he crossed the threshold, he turned and said, "Later."

Brian smiled. "Later, baby." And then Justin was gone and he was left alone in the empty office. Refusing to look out of the window at the demonstrators below, Brian sat in one of Keisha's uncomfortable office chairs to do as he'd promised: to wait.

As they walked down to the courtroom, Keisha asked him, "Are you all right?" He nodded, his heart in his throat, making it almost impossible for him to speak. "You sure?"

He filled his lungs with air, as if preparing to dive underwater. "No."

"It's okay to be nervous. Just remember, you're not on trial. Just tell the truth, answer the questions I ask you, and don't worry about that asshole, Mason. When I'm done with direct, there won't be anything left for him to ask you. Only, he's desperate because he doesn't have a case so he's liable to do anything. But if he tries anything sneaky, I'll be on him like that," she snapped her fingers. "I had this aunt, she lived out in the country and we'd go visit her in the summer. She could spot a snake out of the corner of her eye. She'd be talking to you one minute and the next, she'd be up with a hoe in her hand, chopping away. I'm just like that when it comes to underhanded defense lawyers. So if he messes with me, he's going to get his head chopped off too. If he's lucky." Keisha made a motion with her fingers, as if she were cutting something with a pair of scissors and Justin grinned, knowing exactly what she meant.

As they neared the courtroom, the noise level increased. Already they could see members of the press milling around hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone involved with the case. Most of the press was confined to the press room but the judge had allowed a certain number of reporters access to the courtroom so they were making the best of their privilege by scouting out leads. Justin looked up and saw Jeff, Michael's ex-boyfriend, among the gaggle of reporters. Brian had told him that Michael said they broke up because they weren't compatible but neither of them had believed that. They'd broken up because of the trial.

Keisha escorted Justin to the witness waiting room. Ordinarily Brian would have been in there too but they all thought it was best that he stay out of view of the reporters. He was on edge enough as is and didn't think he could face the press, not today, not when his temper was liable to flare up at the slightest thing. It was better that he wait alone and out of sight.

"Okay," Keisha told him, "I'm going inside. The bailiff will come and get you when it's time for you to testify." 

 

The jury had been sworn in and the Judge had given a second set of preliminary instructions to the jury regarding the charges, the order of the trial, and the treatment of evidence whether oral testimony or physical evidence. "I believe that gives you a general understanding regarding what we're going to be doing in the course of this trial. The first order of business is the opening statements. Because the Commonwealth has the burden of proof in this case, the Assistant District Attorney will present her opening statement first. Ms. Thomas."

She stood and knew that immediately all eyes were upon her. "Thank you, Your Honor. May it please the court. . ."

"Counsel."

Aware of the audience's attention on her, she, nevertheless, focused all of her energy on the jury. Those sixteen men and women were the only ones who counted in the courtroom. Although she had notes, she didn't pick them up. Left them laying on the table next to her trial notebook. She knew what she was going to say. She hadn't memorized it, but she knew the points she wanted to cover and she'd done this so many times, if given a case and a strategy, she could write a half-decent opening statement in fifty minutes or less. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, on April 20th of this year, Justin Taylor attended his senior prom with his best friend, Daphne Chanders. For them, as for so many other eighteen-year-olds, the prom represented a rite of passage, one of those final steps that would take them from childhood to adulthood. Some of you probably remember your senior prom, and even if it wasn't perfect, in your mind it probably remains one of the milestones of your life.

"For Justin Taylor, the only thing that could have made his prom better would have been if he could have gone with the person he loved, Brian Kinney. Because Justin was gay. And even though he and Daphne had been friends since childhood and he loved her like a sister, he wished he could have shared that magical night with Brian. He'd even asked Brian but Brian had refused. So when Brian later showed up at the prom, Justin thought all of his dreams had come true.

"Standing in the parking lot afterwards, the two men shared a tender kiss. Then, having made plans to meet at Brian's place later, Justin started back inside to escort Daphne home. Unbeknownst to him, the defendant, Christian Hobbs, was creeping up behind him carrying a baseball bat. Brian, seeing the defendant in the side mirror of his car, got out and called to Justin to warn him. Justin turned but it was too late. He was dealt a violent blow to the temple by the defendant. Brian rushed at the defendant, pushed him down, and grabbed the bat as the defendant tried to escape. Mr. Kinney then struck Christian Hobbs once in the knee to keep him from fleeing and returned to Justin.

"A night which had begun in laughter and joy, that had seen Justin Taylor realizing his dreams, had come to a screeching halt, with the teen lying unconscious in Brian's arms, bleeding from a horrible head wound.

"What had brought these three people to this violent moment? How had they gotten there? For the answer to that question, you'd have to return to the previous year.

"Justin Taylor was a student at St. James Academy, a private school in the suburbs of Pittsburgh. He was a senior looking forward to graduating. He was an artist who dreamt of attending art school after graduation. He was also gay. A young man experiencing a sexual awakening, a life change. In September of last year, Justin Taylor met Brian Kinney, an advertising executive with a local firm. At the time they met, Justin was seventeen, Brian was twenty-nine. Twelve years separated the two men but there was a mutual attraction that neither of them could deny. I say men because Justin Taylor was of consenting age; the age of consent in Pennsylvania is sixteen and Justin was seventeen. That night was the beginning of a relationship that grew from a series of sexual encounters and blossomed into love.

"But let's go back to that first night. Justin Taylor was a virgin, inexperienced in sexual matters and naive regarding relationships. More importantly, he was a young man who'd never, prior to that night, had the courage to interact with another man sexually. Unfortunately, Justin felt something for Brian that the older man did not reciprocate. At that time. So Justin Taylor, having had his first sexual experience, full of feelings he couldn't control, and caught in the throes of unrequited love, approached, for the first time, another young man sexually. That young man was a student at St. James Academy, another senior. The defendant, Christian Hobbs.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, you're going to hear words in this trial that maybe you aren't accustomed to hearing, words describing deeds that you would prefer be left in the bedroom where you believe they belong, but a crime was committed and we have to uncover the truth about what happened and to do that, we'll have to talk about some things that wouldn't be acceptable in polite society.

"The encounter that took place between Justin Taylor and Christian Hobbs occurred in the equipment shed of the St. James Academy and you'll hear details about that encounter from both the prosecution and the defense. The important thing to remember is that it was not repeated. It's true that Justin initiated contact with the defendant but after that one time, he never did so again. Never. In all of the ensuing months between that encounter and the attack at the prom, Justin Taylor did not once approach Christian Hobbs sexually. Why? Because he loved Brian Kinney. But being a teenager, a young man who had finally found himself sexually, he had explored his sexuality, had had sex with the defendant. Only, he realized that he still loved Brian. So, he focused his attention on him.

"Christian Hobbs, however, was not able to forget that incident so easily. I'm not a psychiatrist, I can't tell you how the encounter affected Mr. Hobbs. I can only describe his behavior towards Justin afterwards in a series of encounters that took place between October and April.

"Incident number one. Justin had gotten a nipple ring. It's the kind of thing young people do. Christian Hobbs saw Justin's nipple ring as Justin got dressed in the men's locker room after gym class. Did he compliment Justin on the nipple ring? No. He, instead, accused Justin of being queer. When Justin denied it, the defendant asked him why he'd gotten the ring then. The defendant then proceeded to tell Justin that he believed Justin had gotten the ring so that his sexual partners could pull on it while they engaged in anal intercourse. Justin, as teenagers do, asked the defendant how he knew so much about gay sex unless he himself was gay. At that point Christian Hobbs pushed Justin against a bank of lockers and the two young men fought until they were separated. Then, in front of witnesses, Christian Hobbs told Justin Taylor, 'I'll kill you, you fucking faggot.'"

Keisha waited while the audience and jury responded to her words. She couldn't wait until Justin took the stand and told them in his own words and in Chris Hobbs' words what happened. Explosive.

"Incident number two. Justin and his friend, Daphne Chanders, arrived in their homeroom to find the defendant, Christian Hobbs, tormenting another student, Max Freiberg. Christian Hobbs accused Max Freiberg of being a faggot. When Justin heard Hobbs taunting Max, he told Hobbs to stop it, to leave Max alone. In the argument that followed, Justin alluded to their encounter in the equipment shed and Christian Hobbs shoved him. They began to push one another until their homeroom teacher, Mr. Dixon, appeared and told them to take their seats. When the roll was called and Mr. Dixon got to Justin's name, Christian Hobbs answered, 'Queer.' When Justin complained to Mr. Dixon, the teacher told him he hadn't heard anything. Justin challenged the teacher and, subsequently, was suspended from school.

"Incident number three. Justin and Daphne decided in light of his suspension, to start a Gay Straight Student Alliance at their high school. Having gotten some help from Brian Kinney regarding advertising their club and attracting members, Justin and Daphne passed out condoms at school along with a flyer about the Gay Straight Student Alliance's first meeting. The defendant, Christian Hobbs, saw them and approached Justin. He asked Justin if anal sex was an extra curricular activity and Justin answered, 'No. Just hand jobs.' Again alluding to their sexual encounter in the equipment shed. The defendant then grabbed Justin and pushed him against the wall and said to him, within Ms. Chanders' hearing, 'Don't you ever mention that again, you little cocksucker.'

"Incident number four. Justin and Brian and some of their friends were going into a gay bar on Liberty Avenue when Justin spotted Christian Hobbs coming down the sidewalk. Justin confronted Hobbs and asked him why he'd come down to Liberty Avenue which is known for its gay bars and clubs. Christian Hobbs told him he'd come down to see the freaks. Justin, challenging him, told Hobbs that on Liberty Avenue, he was the freak and then Justin proceeded to reveal to the crowd of people who'd gathered around them that he had given Christian Hobbs a hand job and that the defendant had enjoyed it. The defendant, in front of witnesses, told Justin that he was 'fucked,' and left.

"Incident number five. Justin was walking down the hallway of the St. James Academy, on break between classes, when the defendant walked up behind him and pushed him down upon a set of nearby stairs. This incident was again witnessed by Ms. Chanders, who heard Christian Hobbs call Justin, 'Faggot.'

"Incident number six. Justin Taylor and Brian Kinney had just come from the prom after having danced in front of all the attendees. Justin was walking on air. He couldn't believe Brian had come, especially since he'd refused Justin when the teenager had asked him to come. But Brian had come to the prom and they'd danced together in front of everyone. They laughed as they walked to Brian's Jeep and then stood talking for a moment. Brian kissed Justin and told he'd see him later at his loft. Justin, wearing a white scarf Brian had worn to the prom, walked away, heading back inside to escort his date, Ms. Chanders, home. As he walked through the parking garage, the defendant, Christian Hobbs, came up behind him carrying a baseball bat. Brian Kinney, who had seen Christian Hobbs in the side mirror of his Jeep, got out of the car and called to Justin. Justin turned and Christian Hobbs struck him in the temple with the baseball bat. Now, the defendant, as you'll hear, was a football player, a star on the St. James Academy team, with an athletic scholarship to U Penn. This young man, who'd lifted weights daily and engaged in strenuous physical activity on a regular basis, swung and struck Justin in the temple with a baseball bat.

"In the hospital, where Justin Taylor lay struggling for his life, Christian Hobbs encountered Brian Kinney and his friends. The defendant was in the hospital to have his leg treated, as his knee had been injured by Mr. Kinney, who had struck him to prevent him from fleeing the crime scene. When the defendant saw Mr. Kinney, he shouted, in front of witnesses, 'I hope he fuckin' dies.'

"Six incidents, ladies and gentlemen, six instances of violence perpetrated by the defendant, Christian Hobbs, against his victim, Justin Taylor. Six witnessed incidents in which Christian Hobbs physically assaulted Justin Taylor culminating in a vicious attack which nearly killed Justin. That he did not die was a miracle. You'll hear testimony from his doctors in which they'll tell you that his survival was nothing short of miraculous and due, in part to their skill, and to the fact that he was not alone when he was attacked, that Brian Kinney was there to get help for him, that Brian Kinney was there with him, protecting him from further harm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if that final attack had been the only one, an isolated occurrence, perhaps you could say that it was done in the heat of the moment, the result of a sudden, overpowering rage. But, ladies and gentlemen, this was only incident number six," she held up her hands, six fingers up in the air, "the final and most severe in a series of attacks taking place over a seven-month period. Faggot, queer, cocksucker, these are the words that Christian Hobbs used to describe Justin Taylor in each of his attacks save the last one, when hurtful words were no longer needed because he had something even more powerful: a baseball bat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is the Commonwealth's assertion that the defendant, Christian Hobbs, intended to cause serious bodily injury and manifested extreme indifference to the value of Justin Taylor's life when he maliciously struck him in the head with that baseball bat. And it is the Commonwealth's assertion that this was not the product of one night's rage but the culmination of months of hostilities between the two young men. Hostilities that ended with one young man, one young gay man, brutally attacked and left for dead. Thank you. Thank you, Your Honor."

As she returned to her seat, she heard whispering from the audience. Of course, most of them had read or heard about the case but many of the details she'd just related hadn't been made public knowledge and they were hearing them for the first time. She imagined, in some eyes, Christian Hobbs had taken on a more sinister aspect.

"Ms. Thomas," said Judge Kramer, acknowledging her before addressing the jury once more. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, as I've already explained, an opening statement is not evidence in a case. Ms. Thomas has outlined what the Commonwealth intends to prove. I would remind you that it is not up to the defendant to offer any evidence or to prove his innocence. You've heard from the prosecution, now you'll hear from the defense. Mr. Mason."

Mason stood. "Thank you, Your Honor." He walked around the defense table at which Christian Hobbs sat still as a stone. Keisha wondered what he made of her opening statement, if it was the first time he'd confronted his deeds outside of his own head. If so, she hoped her words had made an impression, hoped he realized before it was too late that he needed help. But the time for reflection was over for the moment. Mason was about to begin.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Raymond Mason and I'm counsel for the defendant, Christian Hobbs. Although the judge has done so, I'd like to remind you of a few things. First, the defense does not have to produce evidence, either physical or oral. Second, the defendant does not have to testify. And third, if you find the defendant guilty, you must do so beyond reasonable doubt. Why do I go over these points again? Simply to tell you that the defense will produce evidence, the defendant will testify in his behalf, and we will do so because we believe there is reasonable doubt of the defendant's guilt. I also want to remind you that evidence is subject to interpretation. The prosecution has their interpretation of what the evidence means and the defense has its interpretation.

"On April 20 of this year, the defendant, Christian Hobbs, attended the prom with his date, Lisa Monroe. They'd been planning for the prom for weeks, having gone together to pick out his tuxedo, to make sure it matched hers, the kind of thing teenage girls spend hours thinking about. It was to be one of the last such events they would attend at seniors at the St. James Academy. It was, as the Assistant District Attorney said, a rite of passage. Not only that, it was a chance to have fun one last time before the real world beckoned.

"It had been a tough year at St. James Academy, full of upheaval and change. As adults, we know that change is unavoidable, but to a teenager change can be frightening. So they look to traditions for a sense of stability, a sense of identity, a sense of belonging. Christian Hobbs was a football player on the St. James Academy team. He was proud to be a student at the St. James Academy. His father went to St. James Academy. To their family, St. James meant tradition, it meant an excellent education, an excellent preparation for life.

"However, that school year had been particularly upsetting. It began with screeching wheels. The screeching wheels on a black Jeep. A black Jeep on which the word 'faggot' had been spray-painted in pink. Why bring up the Jeep? Because it was the first time the St. James Academy had an opportunity to meet Brian Kinney, Justin Taylor's lover, as he brought the teenager to school having spent the night together. Not only did the appearance of the Jeep cause a stir at the school but upon arriving, Mr. Kinney got into a spat with one of the students. One of the male students, as teenagers will do, commented upon the significance of the painted word on the Jeep and Mr. Kinney threatened him. It is not the defense's assertion that Mr. Kinney meant what he said, but it set the tone for what the school would come to expect from his teenaged lover, Justin Taylor, the kind of atmosphere that his presence generated: upheaval, upset, and uproar.

"Having been introduced to sexual intercourse by Mr. Kinney, Justin Taylor proceeded to test his new-found confidence by pursuing my client, Christian Hobbs. Christian had been given detention for goofing off in class, not paying attention. His task: to clean the school's equipment shed. As he began straightening up the shed, who should arrive but one of his classmates, Justin Taylor, who offered to help him so that he could get to football practice. Christian, taking the offer at face value attempted to interact with Justin the same way he would have any of his other male friends. He talked about football, about girls in the school. He talked about a sexual encounter that had taken place with a female student at the school. At which point, Justin Taylor, forced his attentions upon my client. Could Christian Hobbs have refused? Probably. In hindsight, most definitely. But he didn't. He endured Justin's attentions and went about trying to forget that the incident had ever happened. And as the Assistant District Attorney has stated, the incident was never repeated. Never. And why not? Because Christian Hobbs did not want Justin Taylor sexually. But that incident was not about what Christian Hobbs wanted, it was about what Justin Taylor wanted.

"Indeed, most of the school year at St. James Academy that year was about what Justin Taylor wanted, pushing his agenda. It's true Christian Hobbs teased him about being gay but considering Justin's actions in the equipment shed, it was not an unreasonable assumption. It's true Christian Hobbs baited a fellow student in class. However, Justin Taylor turned it into his own personal crusade against what he believed was unfair treatment by his homeroom teacher. He even went so far as to organize a Gay Straight Student Alliance and to hold an unauthorized meeting of an unauthorized club on school property.

"And there were other incidents that did not involve my client such as the day Justin Taylor arrived at school to find his locker set on fire. Right or wrong, incidents like this show that there were other students at the school as well as faculty who were not comfortable with Justin's agenda. Mr. Taylor even went so far as to involve a state senator in his attempts to organize the Gay Straight Student Alliance, using political power to force an unpopular decision upon the school and its faculty and students.

"The incident on Liberty Avenue occurred because Justin Taylor challenged Christian Hobbs' right to be on that particular street. It's a free country and Christian Hobbs had as much right to be there as anyone. But, again, Justin Taylor turned it into a public event, humiliating my client in front of his friends, and intimidating Christian Hobbs with the presence of his lover, Brian Kinney.

"And finally the prom. Yes, my client Christian Hobbs was angry that Justin had again managed to focus attention on himself, to turn an event that was about all of the graduating students at St. James into an event that was about himself. Him and his lover, his thirty-year-old lover, Brian Kinney. To Christian Hobbs and to other students, Justin and his lover had made a mockery of the prom, had ruined what was a joyous event for many by turning it into a political statement for two.

"I am not excusing what Christian Hobbs did. I'm not saying that it was right or even justified. I'm just trying to explain the circumstances under which it occurred. And despite the history of confrontations between my client and Justin Taylor, Christian Hobbs did not enter that parking garage having planned to do serious bodily harm to Mr. Taylor. His actions were not the result of planning, but a hot-blooded response to the latest in a series of altercations, confrontations, and problems that seemed to accompany Mr. Taylor as he attempted to push his own agenda onto the students and faculty of the St. James Academy. That my client's actions were wrong, yes, I'll admit that, but that they were murderous, no. Thank you." To Judge Kramer, "Thank you, Your Honor."

"Mr. Mason." Kramer glanced at the clock at the back of the courtroom. "Ms. Thomas, you may call your first witness."

"Thank you, Your Honor, the People call Justin Taylor to the stand." 

 

He followed the broad back of the bailiff as the man escorted him to the courtroom. The last time he'd been inside, it had been empty, except for him and Keisha. Now it'd be filled with people, probably standing room only if the Judge would have permitted it. As it was, not a seat was empty except for a few in the front row behind Keisha's table, for the witnesses after they'd testified. Today they'd only need one as Keisha had explained to Justin that it would take today and most of the next day for him to give his testimony. There hadn't been any need to call any of the other witnesses.

There was his mom and dad. Justin was surprised to see Craig there. Ever since the graduation party at the house and his subsequent conversation with his dad, relations had been strained between them. They'd talked, briefly, one or two times on the telephone but had only met once, outside of the pool conversation, when Justin had come back from the Bahamas and gave Craig the leather address book he'd bought for him. Although Craig had given the impression that he wanted to try and work things out with his son, business and the divorce seemed to occupy most of his time. And, of course, to be fair, Justin had spent a lot of time with Brian and been in the midst of getting ready to start school and then going to school once it had started, so he really hadn't made much of an attempt to see his father. He was glad to see him now. Glad that his dad hadn't shown up on a witness list for the prosecution. Justin had dreaded that happening. He had no illusions about the way Craig felt about Brian. And vice versa. They would never be close, never be friends, never even be jovial enemies. The best Justin could hope for was that they would be civil to one another and not get into a fist fight whenever they met. Any more was living in a fantasy world. He wished he were in one now.

There was Christian Hobbs. He'd looked around to see his victim enter the courtroom. Justin had avoided looking directly at him but at the last moment, before he passed through the gate separating the gallery from the well of the court, their eyes met. And even though Hobbs' expression never changed, Justin saw hatred in his eyes. A chill went through him and he reached automatically for the chain around his neck but it was beneath his shirt, out of reach. Still, he could feel it, feel the pendant against his chest, and it seemed as if he could feel Brian's hands brush the back of his neck they way they had when he'd fastened the chain for Justin. He thought of Brian and gathered his courage and walked through the gate to the witness stand. The Clerk of Courts swore him in and he took his seat. As she had said, Keisha moved to a position near the jury box to make it easier for him to address his answers to them and not her. She had hammered that into his head. "Keep your eyes on the jury," she'd said a hundred times if she'd said it once.

"Please state your full name for the record."

"Justin Matthew Taylor."

Again the Matthew Shepard connection. "And how old are you?"

"Eighteen."

Just as they had before, she went through a few preliminary questions to get him over his nervousness because no matter how much practice they'd gotten in, the real thing was bound to be nerve-wrecking. Still, Justin was a good witness. He was sweet-natured (unless you got him riled), bright, and cute as a button, innocent-looking. Which was a plus and a minus. Because of the things he'd done, because of the fact that he was currently involved in a gay relationship with a man twelve years his senior, and no matter how she tried to put a positive spin on it, there was bound to be people who disapproved. She'd done her best to ferret them out of the jury and she just had to trust her instincts, that she'd succeeded.

As she had in the practice session, she intended to ask about the night they first met. She wanted the court to hear his take on that before Mason came up and tried to turn it into something tawdry and unsavory. Still, she had to address why he'd gone down to that part of town in the first place.

"Why did you go to Liberty Avenue that night?"

"To meet someone."

"Someone in particular?"

"No. Just someone. Anyone."

"At the time, you were seventeen, correct?"

"Yes."

"So you were probably too young to get into most of the bars and clubs."

"Yes."

"Why not go someplace for gay and lesbian teenagers?"

"I didn't know of any places."

"Why not ask someone at your school?"

"I thought I was the only gay student at my school. St. James isn't known for its diversity. I didn't know where else to go."

"Did you have a Pittsburgh phone book at your house?"

Justin looked confused. "Yes."

Addressing the judge, Keisha asked, "Your Honor, may I approach the witness stand?"

"You may."

Keisha took the phone book from the Clerk of Court's desk and handed it to Justin. "If you were looking for gay and lesbian organizations, what would you look under?"

"Gay and lesbian organizations."

"Do it." She gave him the book and stepped away, hoping he'd remember to look at the jury when he answered. Justin flipped through the phone book. Paused. "What does it say?"

"Gay and Lesbian Service Organizations."

Good boy, he looked them and not her. "And how many are listed?"

"A few."

"Read some of the names."

Justin read three then stopped. He was angry with her because he had thought of that. He'd even looked in the phone book and decided that wasn't what he wanted. She knew what he'd wanted and she was going to make him say it in court.

Keisha took the book and returned it to the Clerk, then resumed her previous position near the jury. "You're a bright young man, you're telling me you didn't think of that?"

"I did think of it."

Aware that it was a tricky maneuver, making her own client fess up, she continued. "So why didn't you call one of those organizations? I'm sure they'd have information on gay and lesbian youth groups."

"Because I didn't want to join some group."

"What did you want?"

He paused again because his parents were looking at him, he knew it, could feel their eyes on him. "I wanted to find someone to have sex with."

"So you weren't looking for companionship or friends or someone to talk to, were you?"

"No. I wanted to have sex."

So far so good. Several of the jury members smiled, probably remembering how they felt at that age, like they would explode if they couldn't be with someone. "All right, you're on Liberty Avenue and you see Brian. Did he approach you or did you approach him?"

"He approached me."

"And what did you think when you saw him coming towards you?"

As he had when they'd practiced, Justin replied, "I thought he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen," and it sounded just as true this time as before and Keisha realized he still believed that. That's why his words rang so true, even now. "I couldn't believe he was interested in me."

"Why not?"

"Because he was a grown man and I was just a kid. And he was so. . ." Justin searched for the right words. "Perfect, I guess. It was like he was what I had wanted all along when I went out looking, I just didn't know it."

"What did Brian say to you?"

"He asked me if I'd had a busy night and- -" Justin stopped abruptly, remembering her instructions not to volunteer information.

"And what did you tell him?" She wanted to smile.

"I told him I'd gone to a couple of bars. But I hadn't. A man had told me the names." He watched for a visual cue from her and when it seemed as if she wanted him to continue, he did. "Then he asked me where I was headed and I told him no place special. He said he could change that."

"So you went home with a man you'd known for what? A minute?"

"Yes." Justin was aware in retrospect of how dangerous his actions had been.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted him." On that point he was completely clear.

Keisha did smile then. She could only imagine what it'd been like for the teen. Seeing Brian's long, lean figure before him, that whipcord-thin body, the sensuous lips, smoldering eyes. Justin probably hadn't been able to remember his own name. Add to that the fact that it was his first time, it was a wonder he hadn't attacked Brian in the car on the way to the loft. "You went home with Brian and then you had sex, is that right?"

"No. Not right away."

"Why not?"

"He got a phone call from the hospital. His son had been born."

Keisha could see confusion on the jurors' faces. Brian had a son? "Then what happened?"

"Brian went to the hospital."

"Did he send you home?"

"No. He took me with him."

"Why would he take a teenager he'd just met with him to see his son for the first time?"

"I told him I didn't have anyplace else to go. I'd told my mom and dad that I was at my friend Daphne's house. So I couldn't go home."

"When you went to the hospital, did Brian make you wait outside in the car?"

"No. He let me come in and see Gus."

"Gus, that's the baby's name?"

"Yes."

"After you left the hospital, what did you do?"

"We went back to Brian's loft."

"Did you have sex then?"

"Yes." God, he hoped she left it at that, hoped she didn't ask for details cause his mom and dad were sitting there listening to this and the expressions on their faces. They'd known but they hadn't really known, hadn't really wanted to think about it.

"Did you have oral intercourse with him?" As she asked the question she could see Mason wanting to object but if he did, she'd just say it was relevant, to form a contrast between Justin's experience with Brian and his experience with Christian Hobbs and she was sure Mason intended to go into great detail with Justin as to what happened between him and Hobbs. Only she didn't intend to leave any stone unturned.

"Yes."

"Did you have anal intercourse with Brian?"

"Yes." Justin wanted to squirm but didn't. Keisha had warned him about fidgeting. He could see his parents' faces beyond Keisha. They looked mortified, especially his dad.

"Were you a virgin?"

"Yes." He hadn't even known what rimming was. It still embarrassed him when he thought about how innocent and ignorant he had been.

"And you'd never had sexual relations of any kind with any man prior to this?"

"No."

"You'd never kissed another boy?"

"No."

"Touched another boy in a sexual fashion?"

"No."

"Yet you engaged in oral and anal intercourse with a perfect stranger. Why?"

"I trusted him."

"You didn't know him. Why did you trust him?"

"Because I'd seen him with his son." It never failed to touch him whenever he saw Brian with Gus. Gus was like the best part of Brian, the part that the world hadn't managed to hurt, his innocence, his trust. Gus was his chance to start again, to begin anew. "He had held Gus in his hands and kissed him. Brian has these really strong hands and yet he held Gus so gently. I wasn't afraid of being with him after that." Justin's expression softened, remembering how careful Brian had been with him. "I told him to go slow and he did. He never did anything I didn't want."

"Did you spend the night?"

"Yes."

"Did you go to school the next day?"

"Yes. Brian drove me to school."

"Were the other students around when you arrived at school?"

"Yes." He'd never been so embarrassed in his life. Okay, he had, but up until then, maybe not.

"What was their reaction?"

"People were looking at us."

"Because you were with Brian?"

"Because someone had spray-painted the word 'faggot' on the side of his Jeep. And Kevin Richards asked me," he paused.

"Asked you what?"

"He asked me if I wanted to suck him off."

"Could you explain what you interpreted that to mean?"

"That he wanted to know if I wanted to suck his penis."

The court rustled a little and more than a few people looked shocked.

"And what did you say?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Did Brian say anything?"

"He said he'd kick Kevin's tight little virgin ass so hard he wouldn't be able to sit down for a week." That had been the best. He remembered looking at Brian like he was some kind of a hero.

"Then what happened?"

"Some of the kids laughed and Kevin went away."

"Did you and Brian make plans to see each other again?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wanted to but he didn't."

"How did you feel when Brian turned you down?"

"It hurt. Because I was in love with him."

"But you had just met. How could you love someone you'd just met?"

"I don't know. I only know that I loved him from that day on. And I've never stopped. Never changed my mind about that."

"And now you and Brian are together, as a couple?"

"Yes." He smiled softly but the joy inside him, you could see it bubbling over, wanting to escape and his smile widened as he thought about their home, their life together.

Then, as with the intense practice sessions, she asked him how he knew Christian Hobbs and made her way to the day of the equipment shed incident. "Why did you volunteer to help the defendant?"

Having learned from the practice session that his original answer was worse than a lie, it was a lame lie, he decided to come clean up front. "I wanted to have sex with him." He wondered what the jury, what his parents, what the spectators thought about his admission.

"Did you find him attractive?"

"Yes."

"What about Brian? I thought you said you were in love with Brian?"

"I was. Chris Hobbs was just sex. That's all. It didn't mean anything else."

"What did you like about the defendant?"

Shuddering, not wanting to believe himself that he had ever found anything attractive about Chris Hobbs, Justin replied, "He had a good body. And he was kind of funny, the way he cut up in class."

"Was your decision to have sex with Chris Hobbs influenced by Brian's rejection of you?"

"Maybe."

"If you and Brian had been seeing one another, would you have gone after Chris Hobbs?"

"I didn't go after him."

"Would you have wanted to have sex with him?"

"Maybe."

"Would you have followed through with it?"

And he had to tell the truth, that if he and Brian had been together, he wouldn't have gone after Chris Hobbs. He wouldn't have looked twice at Chris Hobbs or anyone else for that matter. "No."

"When did you decide to go and help the defendant clean the equipment shed?"

"I don't know."

"When you were in class and Chris Hobbs first got detention, did you decide then to help him?"

"No."

"By the time school had ended, had you decided to help him?"

"Yes."

"Did you decide all at once or did you think about it for a while?"

"I didn't really think about it."

So you were about to go home and you decided to go have sex with Chris Hobbs?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

These were some of those new questions. "I called Brian and he wouldn't talk to me." Justin was glad Brian wasn't here to hear him say that. The man blamed himself for enough things, he didn't need anything else. "I really wanted to be with him and he didn't want me. At least that's what he said before he hung up."

"What did Chris Hobbs say when you showed up at the equipment shed?"

"He asked me what I was doing there."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I came to help him. That I figured he would get through faster if I helped him and he could go to football practice."

"Did he appear to accept your explanation?" She waited for the objection.

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained."

"Did Chris Hobbs comment on your explanation?"

"He said he didn't think I liked football."

"How long did you help him?"

"For about a half hour."

"Did you finish the shed?"

"No. We took a break and had a soda." Pause. "And he talked."

"What did he talk about?"

"People at school. Mostly girls."

"Did you talk about any girls in particular?"

"Suzanne Shebly and Mary Frances Cudawindo."

"What did he say about them?"

"He said that Suzanne was a whore and I told him I thought she was a dyke. A lesbian. And he told me how she only liked to have sex with guys from other schools, preferably Catholic. And then he started telling me how Mary Frances came over to his house to interview him for the school paper and she came onto him and started," his voice lowered, "touching him."

"Could you speak up please?" She hoped her instructions would also remind him to look at the jury as his eyes had dropped as well.

Justin looked up. "How she started touching him."

"And then what happened?"

"He started touching himself."

"Touching himself where?"

Justin's cheeks burned. "His penis."

"Did he put his hand inside his pants?"

"No. Over."

"And what did he do?"

"He rubbed his penis as he talked."

"And what did you do?"

"I watched him for a while."

"Were you excited by what he was doing?"

Softly, "Yes."

"Could you speak up?"

"Yes, I was excited."

"Did you touch yourself?"

"No."

"Did you touch him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I put my hand over his crotch and felt him and I unzipped his pants." He paused and swallowed. "And then I stroked him."

"Stroked his penis?"

"Yes."

"Did the defendant tell you to stop?"

"No."

"Did he try to push away your hand?"

"No."

"Did he do or say anything that you could have interpreted to mean that he didn't want you to touch him?"

"No."

"What did he do?"

"He moaned. And then he came."

"He ejaculated?"

"Yes."

"Did you?"

"No."

"And then what happened?"

"Mr. Horner came in and Chris zipped his pants up."

"Did Mr. Horner see you?"

"Objection."

"Sustained."

What did Mr. Horner say?"

"He said, 'Shouldn't you be working.' "

"And what did Chris Hobbs do?"

"He said he was working."

"And what did you do?"

"I got my stuff and left."

"While you were stroking Chris Hobbs, did you say anything to him?"

"No."

"Did you kiss him?"

"No."

"So you stroked Chris Hobbs, he ejaculated, and you went home?"

"Yes."

"Did this satisfy you sexually?"

"Not really."

"Did you want more out of the encounter?"

"No."

"Why not?"

And this was the truth, naked and probably a little unflattering. "It wasn't about me getting off, it was about me getting him off, proving that I could."

"Why was that important to you?"

"Because Brian didn't want me. It was like I couldn't please him. So I wanted to see if I could please someone else."

"After you left Chris Hobbs, did you go home?"

"Yes."

"Did you masturbate then?"

"Yes."

"Did you think of Chris Hobbs?"

"No."

"Who did you think of?"

Who he always thought of. "Brian."

"Did you tell anyone about your encounter with Christian?"

"My friend Daphne."

"What did you tell her?"

"That it was just sex."

Before Keisha could begin another line of questions, Judge Kramer said, "I think this is a good place to take a short recess. In light of the long lunch break, let's take a ten-minute recess and reconvene at three thirty-five. Please, remember, Mr. Taylor and jury members, that you are still under oath."

With court dismissed, Justin left the witness stand and slowly approached the prosecution's table, his eyes on his parents' faces just beyond it. Keisha intercepted him and said quietly, "It's okay. They'll understand." Then sat down and began to go through her notebook.

Heart doing a thirty-yard dash in his chest, he slipped through the gate and went over to his parents. "Hey."

Jennifer stood and embraced him and he wrapped his arms around her and held her gratefully. When they parted, she wiped her eyes. "How are you?"

He shrugged. "Okay." Glanced down, then up again. "I hate this."

"I know, honey." She touched his face. "I know." Turned expectantly to Craig, who had been silent so far.

Justin's dad stood and gave Justin a rough hug. Indicated Keisha with his head. "She's tough."

"Yeah. Brian calls her- -" He cut off his sentence, not wanting to get into it with his dad, not today.

Craig, with effort, asked, "Brian calls her what?"

"Mace." He didn't bother to explain the movie reference but he figured the name alone said it all. They both smiled.

Pleased that Justin and Craig were getting along, she asked, "How is he?"

"He's. . ." Justin shook his head. _How were any of them?_ And the entire time he spoke with his parents, he was aware of Christian Hobbs' malevolence emanating from the table not four yards away. He had felt Hobbs looking at him during his testimony but hadn't looked at him. Hadn't wanted to see the hatred in his eyes. Hadn't wanted to look at him and feel anything but revulsion. That's what he was most afraid of, that he would look at Chris Hobbs and still find him attractive in the least bit. But now, risking a glance, he couldn't believe that he had ever thought the sullen youth, glowering while his attorney spoke, was hot. God, he needed Brian. If he hadn't wanted to talk to his parents, he would have run upstairs to him the moment the recess had begun. He could see him in his mind, see him sitting with his legs crossed, flipping through a magazine or making notes on the work he'd brought with him, eyebrow raised at Bob and Brad's latest advertising mistake. Justin smiled, thinking about the time Brian had come home, a look of wonder on his face, and announced that Brad and Bob had actually managed to come up with a good idea. He sometimes thought that maybe Bob and Brad weren't as bad as Brian made them out to be. The problem was, who could measure up to Brian's standards except Brian? He was the best and being patient with lesser mortals wasn't one of his strong suits.

Leaving her table, Keisha came over and spoke to the Taylors. "Court's about to begin again. You okay?" she asked Justin and he nodded.

Just thinking about Brian had helped. 

 

Having consulted her notes, Keisha stood and took up her customary position by the jury box. "I want to turn your attention to an incident in the locker room at St. James. You had just gotten a nipple ring. Do you remember that incident?"

"Yes." Without summoning them, images of him and Brian making love rose to the forefront of his memories. It had been the first time he'd really been aware of the power he had over Brian, the power to arouse his interest, his desire, his lust. The time he'd come into Babylon and taken those two guys from Brian whereupon the ad exec had brought him home and fucked him, he hadn't really thought about it, that maybe Brian might have felt an uncontrollable desire to have him. Neither had the episode in Mikey's bedroom. But the nipple ring incident had proved to him that the man wanted him, even if he wouldn't admit it. And maybe he'd been fooling himself, thinking that Brian needed him in any capacity, but it had comforted him through the months ahead, believing that Brian was fighting his attraction to the teenager.

"What were you doing in the locker room?"

"We'd just gotten done with gym class and I was getting dressed."

"Did Chris Hobbs speak to you?"

"Yes. He asked me why I wasn't taking a shower. He said, 'Don't you want to check out all the guys' dicks, we know how much you like that.' "

"And those were his exact words?"

"Pretty close, I think."

"Why do you think you remember them?"

"Because I couldn't believe he'd rag on me after what had happened between us."

"So what did he say when he saw the nipple ring?"

"He asked me what it was and I told him and then he said that I really was a queer."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I wasn't."

"Why did you deny it?"

"We were in the middle of the locker room and I didn't want to get into it with him."

"But you'd arrived at school one morning in a black Jeep with the word 'faggot' written on the side. How did you explain that?"

"I didn't. It wasn't anybody's business."

"So you denied being gay."

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"He asked me why I had the nipple ring then and I told him I wanted it. And then he said. . ." Justin paused. He didn't want to say it.

"Do you remember what he said?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'So your fudgebacking friends can pull on it while they're buttfucking you.' " And that was the worst, that Chris Hobbs had turned something that had been so hot, so intimate, into something ugly.

"Did you respond to that?"

"I asked him how he knew so much about what faggots did unless he was one."

"Did you use the word faggots?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I thought if I said it that way, maybe the other guys would think I was straight cause that's what the straight guys in school called gay people."

"So you didn't want anyone to think you were gay?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't want to get picked on all the time and have people rag on me every day. Being gay at St. James. . .it wasn't easy."

And he was living proof of that. She thought no more eloquent statement could have been made and she noticed that several of the jurors looked down at their hands, probably thinking about the subsequent events that had occurred. Would they have done otherwise? Probably not. "So, after you asked Christian Hobbs how did he know so much about what faggots did unless he was one, what happened?"

"He pushed me into the lockers. And I punched him. He pushed me again and punched me. And then the other guys in the locker room came and broke up the fight. Chris started calling me names."

"What did he call you, Justin?"

The ugliness of the words still pained him. "He called me a bitch and a fucking cunt bitch."

Several people in the gallery looked as if they wanted to protest the usage of such words, especially Chris Hobbs' mother, who seemed to go inside herself and remain there, peeking out at the world.

"What did you do?"

"I spit on him."

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't believe he was saying those things. Like he hadn't been in that equipment shed with me. Like I hadn't jerked him off." Justin glanced at Chris Hobbs and for a moment it looked as if he might speak to Hobbs but then he wrenched his head around and looked at the jury again.

"After you spit on him, what did the defendant do?"

"He said," and Justin closed his eyes, "he said, 'I'll kill you, you fucking faggot.' "

"Were those his exact words, Justin?"

"Yes." He looked down and blinked rapidly.

The judge spoke. "Would you like some water?"

"No, thank you," he said softly. All he wanted was Brian. To hold him and clear those memories from his mind.

"Did you tell any of the school officials or teachers about the incident?"

"Yes. Our gym teacher, Coach Smithers, came in after the guys had separated us and he made us go to the principal's office."

"What did you tell the principal?"

"I told him what Chris Hobbs had said."

"And what did the principal tell you?"

"That fighting wasn't the way civilized people resolved disputes."

"And that was all?"

"He said that if it happened again, he would suspend me."

"What did he say about Chris Hobb's threats?"

"That people say things in the heat of anger that they don't mean."

"Did you believe Chris Hobbs when he said that he'd kill you?"

Justin thought about that day, about the look in Hobbs' eyes, and he knew. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because they could barely hold him back. I thought he'd get away from them and do it right there."

"Did you tell the principal about the incident in the equipment shed?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because then they'd know."

"Know what?"

"That I was gay. And they'd know that he'd let me do it. And I didn't know what he'd do if someone found out."

"Justin, did you think Christian Hobbs was gay?"

"Objection," said Mason, rising.

"Your Honor, I'm not asking the witness to make a pronouncement about the defendant's sexuality, I'm asking about his perceptions of the defendant as they influenced his actions."

"Overruled. The witness may answer the question."

Mason sat down and tried to look indifferent to the ruling.

He thought about it, thought about the way Chris had responded when he'd first taken hold of his cock, the look of lust on his face, and he wanted to say yes, but the truth was, Hobbs had been so horny, so hard, it could have been anyone pulling on his dick, he wouldn't have cared. And he really didn't want Hobbs to be gay, cause how could he be gay and do the things he'd done to him? "No."

"So when you went to him in the equipment shed, you thought he was straight."

"Yes."

" And yet you initiated a sexual encounter with him. Why?"

"I told you. I thought he was hot and I wanted, I wanted to do him."

"Even if he was straight?"

"Yes."

"Did you look on it as a challenge to get him to respond to you?"

"I- -I don't know."

"At that time, had you had sex with anyone else besides Brian?"

"There was a guy at the museum."

"Did you initiate the encounter?"

"I saw him in the museum. He was looking at me and then he motioned with his head and I followed him into the bathroom." Justin remembered how hot the guy had looked. Dark blond hair, obviously a bleach job cause his roots were dark, with a half-inch fringe of beard following the line of his jaw and chin, and earrings and tattoos. Just like Xavier. He shook his head a little because he'd never thought of that. The earrings and the tattoos.

"What did you do?"

"You mean sexually?"

"Yes."

"We kissed and we stroked each other until we came."

"Was there any penetration?"

"No. There wasn't any time. My mom was waiting for me."

Jennifer remembered that day. She'd seen him following the boy and had known what was going to happen. Had stared at her favorite painting until she had lost herself in it.

"Did you believe that this young man was gay?"

"Yes. He wanted to see me again."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was seeing someone."

"Brian."

"Yes."

"But you weren't."

"We'd had sex but we weren't involved, no." They'd had incredible sex, sex so good his other encounters had paled beside it.

"Now, was it before or after the locker room incident that you moved in with Brian the first time?"

"After."

"Why did you move in with Brian?"

"My dad found out I was gay. And he found out I was seeing Brian. He wanted me to stop seeing him and I wouldn't. He followed me one night to Woody's and when I came out with Brian, my dad attacked him and I told him I wasn't coming home ever again."

"And Brian let you stay at his place?"

"Yes." He was glad he didn't have to go into all of the circumstances surrounding that decision. The painful conversation- -one-sided- -with his parents before Brian had rescued him and taken him home.

"How long did you live with Brian?"

"About a month."

"And then what happened?"

"I forgot to set the alarm and Brian's loft was robbed. And he blamed me and told me to get out."

"What did you do?"

"I ran away to New York."

"Where did you get the money to go to New York?"

"I took one of Brian's credit cards."

"How did you get his credit card?"

"He used to leave his wallet on the counter or on his desk, so I just took one of his cards and bought a ticket to New York."

"Did you realize that you could have gotten in a lot of trouble?"

"Yes. But I thought maybe he would come after me."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

Keisha marveled at the way Justin had apparently handled His Big and Badness and she wondered if Brian had ever realized how well he'd been played by the teenager. "What did he do?"

"He drove to New York and got me and brought me back to Pittsburgh. And he found me someplace to live." _And in between we had hot sex in the hotel room, so hot that I think I was out of it for a while. I can still feel him pounding me. . . fucking me._

"Where?"

Her question jerked him back to the present. "With Debbie Novotny."

"During the time you lived with Brian, did you have any further run-ins with Chris Hobbs?"

"No."

"Okay- -"

Kramer interrupted her. "Counselor, is this a good place for us to adjourn for today?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"As it's about twenty 'til five, I think we'll stop here for today and resume Mr. Taylor's testimony tomorrow. Please, again, I must remind the jury and Mr. Taylor that they are still under oath and as such are asked not to discuss the case with anyone, not even other jurors or witnesses. I would also ask that you not read any newspaper articles or watch any news stories about the trial. Court will reconvene tomorrow at nine a.m." 

 

It reminded him of the times he'd sat up in his room refusing to speak to anyone. Brooding. God, he must have spent his entire childhood brooding. Childhood and teenage years and adulthood. Brooding. Scowling at the world or grimly having fun. Unless he was on something, and then he didn't give a damn.

He wondered how Justin was doing. They must have taken a break around three, three thirty but he hadn't expected him to come up then. But now it was nearing five and he figured soon they'd recess for the day. He could almost hear Justin's footsteps outside the door.

For the first time since he'd come to the office that morning, he got up and looked out of the window at the crowd below. Still shouting slogans for one another and the cameras. And there was the bridge Justin said had been inspired by the Bridge of Sighs in Venice.

Four whole weeks in Europe. Four whole weeks off period. He'd never taken a month long vacation before. Never had anything better to do than to party, go out drinking with the guys and, hell, he could do that and still work so what was the point in taking a month off? A week or two would do. But next year he'd take the entire four weeks and travel Europe with his baby. He and Justin had already begun going online and picking out the places they wanted to go and the sights they wanted to see. They'd found this cool site where real people gave advice about things to do all over the world. As soon as the trial was over, they were going to sit down and firm up their itinerary so they could get the plane tickets and make hotel reservations. Brian didn't intend to go any way but first class. If it were up to Justin, they'd be staying in youth hostels. Of course, he was young enough to do that, Brian was not. They really had to decide what they were going to do. He'd used Keisha's computer this morning to look at some hotels. Found one he thought Justin would like. Christ, he wondered how many museums they'd probably have to visit in Europe. Still, it would be worth it just to see that beautiful smile light up Paris or Milan.

Just then the door opened and, although he wasn't smiling, Brian was glad to see him. Justin flew to him and they held one another closely, silently for a few moments. "You okay?"

The teen shook his head and buried his face in Brian's jacket and the man tightened his hold. Finally, Justin sniffled and released him.

Brian thumbed a tear from the boy's eye. "Okay now?"

Justin nodded. "I wanna go home."

"Me too." Brian kissed him on the forehead. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I found the perfect hotel in Paris."

"What? The Ritz?" What else but a four-star hotel for Brian?

"No. It's called the Hotel de la Place du Louvre. It's right next door to the Louvre, right across the street. And guess what else?"

"What?"

"All the rooms are decorated in themes based on the painters in the Louvre. So you can stay in the Matisse or the Monet or the Picasso- -"

"Yes!" Immediately the trial was forgotten. "That's where we're staying, right?"

"If you want," Brian said noncommittally.

Justin snuggled up to him. "I love you."

"You'd better."

"I do."

Giving up the pretense that he didn't care, Brian elaborated. "We can walk along the Seine in the morning after breakfast. Or before. Or both. And at night, we can stroll down to one of the Arcs du Triomphe." He took Justin's face in his hands. "But we have to get through this first. Both of us. Or it's no good. Can't go without you."

"Okay."

"That's my baby." They kissed. Brian could tell Justin was still shaken. "Rough?"

"I'll be all right."

"You didn't answer my question."

Justin's eyes shifted. "It's gonna get worse, Keisha says," he began, then paused and Brian wanted to lock the door and keep the world away from his little boy. "When you testify," he finished. 

 

Justin's face was white when he left the courthouse and, although he held up outside, not wanting to give the anti-gay groups any satisfaction, in Willie's taxi he rested his head against Brian's shoulder and closed his eyes, utterly exhausted. Brian called their friends and left messages telling them not to come to the loft tonight as they needed a little 'us time' and he grimaced at the fact that he'd actually used the phrase 'us time'.

Alone in the loft, they made their way to the bed and sat, just enjoying the peace, the solitude. Finally, Brian got up and held out his hand. "You need a massage."

Stripping, they quickly showered first and then hurriedly dried themselves off.

They had purchased a portable table that could be folded and put away when it wasn't in use. Now Brian set it up at the foot of the bed while Justin grabbed some towels.

The teenager got on the table and lay on his belly waiting, with his head on his folded arms, his porcelain skin stark against the black surface. Pouring a little oil in his hand, Brian rubbed his palms together, heating it. Then, starting at the nape, he made his way down the teen's body.

Fingers brushed by fine, golden hairs, Brian lightly rubbed his thumbs over the back of Justin's neck. Hearing him murmur, he asked, "Hmm?"

"Feels good."

"I'm just getting started."

From his neck, Brian moved down to and out over his shoulders, working the tired yet tense muscles, coaxing them to relax, using the same techniques on the shoulders as he used when he wanted to get inside Justin's ass: light feathery touches combined with bold thrusts, begging alternating with commanding. Rolling Justin's skin between his fingers, Brian continued to apply varying degrees of pressure until the teen's shoulders slumped and he knew he'd succeeded.

Down the spine his hands traveled, thumbs moving over the vertebrae, palms over the ridge of muscle that ran along either side. Down from the shoulder blades to the hips and back again. Justin was so slender, Brian's hands engulfed his waist, fingers curving around him, reaching for his belly. The man drew his hands up over the teen's ribs, along his side, up to his armpits.

"Sleep yet?"

"No. Feels too good to go to sleep."

Although he had intended to go around to the other end of the table and start from Justin's feet and move upwards, Brian found that he could not keep his hands off Justin's ass any longer. The beautifully shaped mounds of pale flesh beckoned him. Applying more oil, he smoothed his palms over the teenager's buttocks. Then curved his fingers just a bit and raked them from base to apex. Over and over he squeezed and stroked Justin's cheeks, hands full of his silky smooth skin. The boy began to move around on the table, the feel of Brian's hands on his ass sending signals to his cock. His thighs opened slightly and he pressed his behind up into Brian's palms. "Mmmm," he moaned as Brian's grip tightened on his flesh.

For his part, Brian's penis had already begun to stiffen. As he stretched over Justin's body to extend his reach, the tip brushed the boy's arm. Brian paused and went down to the other end, wanting to see Justin's ass from a different angle. Since the table was long enough for him, it was too long for Justin and the man told the teen to slide down a little. Justin did, so that his feet were at the very end. With ease Brian began kneading his buttocks once more, this time from the bottom up, parting the cheeks so that Justin's puckered anus stretched open a little. At that Brian's cock throbbed. Oiling his fingers even more, he pulled aside one cheek to expose the boy's hole. Then he pressed the tip of his finger right against the center of the knotted cinnamon flesh. Justin hissed through his teeth. Brian moved his finger in a circle, tracing the boundaries of Justin's hole, watching the edges tense and relax.

"Oh. . ." Justin whispered and Brian smiled, the tip of his tongue peeking from between his lips. He enjoyed his work.

Reaching for the oil, he squeezed some directly between Justin's cheeks. The viscous liquid flowed slowly down the crevice of his ass. Then over and around his hole. Brian rubbed his fingers in the oil, massaging Justin's anus until the muscles relaxed and he could ease a finger inside. Yet he didn't. He wanted to take it slow. The teen gasped and gripped the front edge of the table, the muscles in his body tense with anticipation but Brian stroked his legs and the backs of his thighs. "Relax," he said. "We've got all evening."

Leaving Justin's buttocks for a while, he concentrated on his thighs and legs, loving the feel of the strong muscles beneath his hands. Muscles that had become stronger over the months due to Justin's legs being pressed back over his chest or extended over Brian's shoulders.

Brian focused on his feet, raising one after the other and massaging the sole, paying close attention to each toe, running his finger over the arch. Justin giggled as it tickled a little. Brian leaned over and blew on his sole and Justin giggled again. Finally Brian popped him lightly on the butt. "Turn over."

He parted Justin's legs and began working on one thigh, pressing his fingers into Justin's firm flesh, sliding his hands almost all the way to the teen's groin, stopping just short of the goal. Retreating and then pressing forward again; working the long muscle in Justin's inner thigh, the boy gasping as Brian's fingers brushed his scrotum finally. Justin's cock twitched and he held his breath. Brian switched legs and treated this one just the same until both thighs glistened with oil and Justin's cock arched over his belly. "Tell me what you want."

Justin turned his head away so that Brian couldn't see the naked need in his eyes. "You know."

But they still had the evening to go so the man changed positions once more and stood at the head of the table. Pulled Justin up until his head was at the end. Then he poured oil over the teenager's chest and began massaging the mounds of flesh, carefully avoiding his nipples. Yet, even neglected, they stood out on his chest, begging for attention. Brian stretched over Justin and rubbed his belly, his palm flat against the teen's skin. He could feel the fine line of hair running down from his navel to his groin. Blond like the rest of him. Justin's penis hovered over his hand. Precum dripped on his knuckles. Bringing his hands back up, Brian covered Justin's nipples, palms rotating over the hard nubs. Justin sighed and his hand strayed to his groin. "Wait," Brian instructed him.

"Not much longer," Justin warned. Even under ordinary circumstances he could barely stand it when Brian touched him for a prolonged period of time. It was as if each nerve ending was firing off simultaneously and his skin felt like it was on fire, while his brain struggled with the sensory overload. It was times like those that he moaned the most, the shouts and groans the only way he knew how to release the tension.

Grabbing the oil again, Brian moved to the side of the table. Grasped Justin's cock by the root and held it in his fist. Then, he squeezed the bottle.

Justin moaned as the oil dribbled over the head of his cock and then trickled down the shaft. He could feel his balls tighten and draw up as Brian's fist moved slowly from the base to the tip spreading oil all over him. Brian repeated the motion several times until the boy's dick was shiny and slick. It slipped through his fist with ease. He cupped his balls and oiled them as well, loving how Justin's body glistened.

He released Justin and said, "Get up." When Justin had, Brian stepped behind him and ran his hands up and down his torso, over his buttocks. "You feel so good." So smooth. He rubbed his dick between Justin's cheeks, up against his spine. Hand around his cock again, Brian stroked him until the teen started to whimper. "Tell me what you want," he said once more.

Justin's head lolled back against his shoulder. He could hardly stand it. His heart was beating in triple time and it felt like a thousand tiny bolts of electricity were racing through his body even though he moved as if through honey. "Make love to me," he whispered although he wanted to say more, wanted to tell his lover to make it last all night, fuck him slow and easy, as if they would never join again, as if this one time had to last forever. But he didn't need to because Brian knew. He knew his little boy, his baby, knew what Justin needed better than he did his own needs. That's why they were together: because for each of them, the other was the one person in the world who knew them better than they knew themselves, the one person who wouldn't use that knowledge to hurt them, or would, at least, try not to.

Brian spread the two towels over the comforter and laid Justin down upon them. Raised his legs to his shoulders and leaned forward. Waited. Felt Justin's hand on him, guiding him between his thighs. He pushed just a little. The oil eased the way and he was inside, sliding through the slick ring of muscle to the warmth beyond. 

 

Hours later they got up and rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. The phone had rung a couple times but they'd let the machine pick it up. Nothing and no one was going to intrude on their time alone. Having rustled up two passable salads from the ingredients in the refrigerator, they sat on the floor in the living room and Brian popped in a DVD of the movie Diva. "I need to brush up on my francais," he said.

Justin watched for a while and then frowned. "You really like this?"

"It's French," Brian explained. "You haven't acquired the necessary sophistication to appreciate it."

His back up a little, Justin said, "I'm the one who went to private school."

"And look where it got you," Brian replied before he'd given it any thought. Instantly regretted it. "Baby- -"

Justin got up and carried their empty plates to the kitchen. Rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher with the others. When there was a full load, they'd run it. He looked in the refrigerator for something sweet but there was nothing. Checked the freezer. There. Ice cream. A whole pint, unopened.

When he saw that Justin was going to eat his dessert at the counter, Brian went over there. Stood beside him, not touching the teenager. "I'm sorry."

"That's a first. Brian Kinney saying he's sorry."

"You know that's not- -"

"Go back to your film."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Cause nobody does that," Justin said angrily.

Taking hold of Justin's arm, Brian pulled him around. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." But before Brian could respond, he continued. "My parents were there. Listening to me. To the things I've done. The stupid. . ." He began again. "The stupid things I've done." Shook his head. "They must think. . ."

Brian wrapped his arms around him. "Stop being such a drama princess," he said, but he said affectionately and Justin smiled through his tears. "You were just a kid. You're still a kid. Everybody makes mistakes."

Justin chuckled a little. "Especially you."

"You'll want me to give it up again tonight and I won't," Brian threatened.

Cupping his lover's crotch through his black silk robe, Justin smirked. "Sure you will."

Eyelids lazing, Brian smiled. _Fuck yeah._

 

**Wednesday, November 14th**

They had made it through the gauntlet of reporters and demonstrators for the third day in a row. Today was, by far, the worse. The second day of the evidence phase of the trial, the 'real' trial as some people thought of it. And if only a fraction of a group's membership had turned out on the previous two days, they put in an appearance today. The police barricades kept the courthouse entrance clear but traffic had been rerouted to other streets, there were so many people carrying signs and making a general nuisance of themselves, even the people who had turned out in support of Justin.

Arms around one another, they hurried past the shouting people and made their way upstairs to Keisha's office where Brian would wait while Justin gave his testimony. Their friends were already inside the courtroom, having gotten here early since they weren't all assured a seat. Keisha had arranged for Justin to have five seats in the courtroom for those of his family and friends who weren't testifying. His mom, his dad (if he came again), and then three other seats. Which meant Rennie, Xavier, Lindz, Mel, Vic, Ted, Mikey, and Emmett had to decide between themselves who would get the assigned seats and who would stand in line with the general public. They finally agreed that Lindz, Mel, and Vic would sit with Jenn and Craig and the rest would fend for themselves.

Deb, of course, should have been in the witness waiting room with the other witnesses Keisha had lined up for the prosecution. Although Justin would probably be on the stand most of the day, some of the other witnesses might be called. Deb wouldn't be called until after Brian but she'd come anyway. However, they all thought it was best that she wait with Brian in Keisha's office. She had a way of keeping him calm when all else had failed.

Seeing Debbie for the first time in her new clothes and new hairdo, Justin was impressed. "Deb, is that you?"

She touched her silvery blonde hair self-consciously. "It's me." Smiled brightly to cover her nervousness. "What do you think?"

"I think you look wonderful." Then, aware of the subtext, he quickly added. "I always think you look wonderful."

Laughing, she kissed him on the cheek. "That's my Sunshine." She turned to Brian. "Well?"

He studied her, cocked his head slightly. "I'd fuck you," he said and then he bussed her cheek.

Deb waved him away. "Go on. You're just trying to give me hot flashes."

The time came for Justin to accompany Keisha to the courtroom. He and Brian kissed briefly and then the teen left without looking back. They'd decided it would be better that way, no time to get maudlin or overly emotional. Only, after Justin had gone, Brian sat and stared at the floor for a full minute before looking up to find Deb studying him.

"He'll be fine."

"I know." But what else could he have said? 

 

Justin settled into his chair on the witness stand and waited for Keisha to begin with today's questions. Before turning his attention to the jury, he looked out over the gallery and saw his mom and dad, Mel, Lindsay, and Vic; and then not far from them Michael, Em, Ted, Xavier, and Rennie. He wondered who was taking care of Gus, but then Keisha walked over to the jury box and it was time to focus on the events at hand.

"Let's move forward in time to the day you were suspended. You and Daphne Chanders had just arrived in your homeroom class, when you saw the defendant, Christian Hobbs, accosting another student."

Mason stood. "Objection, Your Honor. Leading."

"Sustained."

She almost wanted to laugh. "Okay, when you and Daphne Chanders arrived in your homeroom class on the day of your suspension, what did you see?"

"I saw Chris Hobbs picking on Max Freiberg."

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained. Counselor, please advise the witness not to editorialize."

"Justin, what exactly did you see Chris Hobbs do or hear him say to Max Freiberg?"

"I heard him say, 'You look like one. You want to suck my cock.' "

"Then what happened?"

"Daphne asked him if he couldn't come up with something more original and then I told him to leave Max alone."

"What did Chris Hobbs say?"

"He said it must have been a faggot convention. I told him not to take it out on Max and he asked me what and I said his dick."

There was laughter in the courtroom which was silenced as Kramer frowned.

"What did you mean by asking him not to take his dick out on Max?"

Justin looked at her in disbelief. Obviously people had gotten it because they'd laughed. "I was talking about what had happened between us. That's when he pushed me and we started pushing one another."

"Did your teacher come in then?"

"Yes. He told us to sit down and then he told me the next time I caused trouble, I'd have to talk to the principal. Daphne defended me and said that Chris had started it, that he'd called me a faggot but Mr. Dixon told us to sit down."

"Then what happened?"

"Then Mr. Dixon called the roll and when he got to my name, Chris said, 'Queer,' and everyone laughed."

"Did Mr. Dixon say anything to him?"

"No. And when I complained about Chris, Mr. Dixon told me he hadn't heard anything." Even now it made him angry, how Dixon had blatantly ignored him. "But everyone had heard it. I said I wanted Chris to apologize and he told me to sit down. And then he told me if I said anything else, he'd send me to the principal's office."

"What did you do then?"

"I told him not to bother. I grabbed my stuff and I said, 'The queer is going. The queer is out the door. The queer is gone.' "

"Did Mr. Dixon say anything in response?"

"He said that was enough."

"What did you do?"

"I told him now that his hearing had returned 'this queer says, Fuck you.' And I gave him the finger. Well, two fingers." More laughter. And someone yelled, "Yes!"

This time Kramer spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is a court of law and as such we will conduct ourselves appropriately. Despite the sometimes humorous comments of witnesses, you will remember that these are serious matters we are discussing. If necessary, I will clear the court of spectators. I hope I've made myself clear. Continue, Ms. Thomas."

"Did you leave class?"

"Yes. Mr. Dixon came after me and we went to the principal's office and I got suspended for two days."

"Did you explain the circumstances to the principal?"

"I told him what happened in class."

"And he still suspended you?"

"Yes. He said I should have brought Chris' behavior to his attention and that I was being suspended for what I said to Mr. Dixon."

Next to Jennifer, Craig listened to Justin and felt ashamed that he'd never talked to him about what had happened, that he'd just let it all go once Justin had moved out of the house. Of course, if it had happened while Justin was still at home, all he would have done was yell at him, the same way he'd yelled at him for fighting in the locker room. He'd failed Justin, he was sure of that much. He and the school both had failed him. And Brian hadn't. The man who'd supposedly corrupted him.

"When you came into homeroom class and Christian was speaking to Max, why did you say anything to Chris?"

"Because Max looked scared and I know how Chris is."

"How is he?"

"He won't let up."

Keisha waited for an objection, but none came.

"And," Justin continued, "Max isn't very big. I didn't want Chris bothering him."

"Did Max ask you to help him?"

"No."

"Maybe he could have taken care of it himself."

"I didn't think so." Justin didn't think anyone outside of Brian could have taken on Chris Hobbs and won. Look at him. He'd tried and lost, almost lost his life.

"Has Max ever mentioned that episode to you?"

" He came to the first meeting of the Gay Straight Student Alliance and afterwards he thanked me for trying to help him."

"Let's talk about the Gay Straight Student Alliance. What gave you the idea to start an alliance?"

"Debbie. She told me that the reason people sometimes act like Chris and Mr. Dixon was that they didn't understand about gay people."

"Had you told her what'd happened between you and Chris in the equipment shed?"

"No."

"Had you told anyone other than Daphne?"

"No."

"Did you think the Alliance would help your situation with Chris?"

"No. But I thought it might help other students learn to be more tolerant. I thought maybe if they understood, they wouldn't just stand by and let people like Chris torment other students."

"Objection."

"What do you call it then?" Justin asked, angry, furious that Mason was trying to protect that piece of shit, Chris Hobbs.

"Justin," warned Keisha.

"All he did was walk around torturing people and no one at that school did a thing!"

"Justin!"

Kramer banged his gavel. "Ms. Thomas, please control your witness."

"May I approach the stand, Your Honor?"

"Please."

Keisha neared Justin and spoke to him in a low voice, "Justin, do you need a break?"

"I just- -"

"Do you need a break?" she repeated. All eyes were upon them. He shook his head. "All right, then." She stepped back. "May I continue, Your Honor?"

"You may."

She took up her position by the jury box again. "All right. Did you tell Brian about being suspended?"

"Yes. I asked him to help me advertise the Gay Straight Student Alliance."

"Did he?"

"He told me to hand out condoms. He said that would get them in the door."

"Did you?"

"Yes. Daphne and I handed out condoms and invitations to the meeting."

"Where did you hand out the invitations?"

"At school. In the hallway."

"Did you give away a lot?"

"Almost all."

"Did Chris Hobbs come by while you were handing out condoms and invitations?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

"He asked me if I was starting a faggot club and then he spilled the condoms on the floor."

"What did you do?"

"I told him it was a club for gay students and straight students. And Daphne said it was to promote tolerance and understanding."

"What did Chris do then?"

"He asked me if, if. . ." Justin fell silent.

"Please answer the question, Justin."

Chris Hobbs' parents tensed as if waiting for a blow.

"He asked me if buttfucking was an extra-curricular activity."

"Did you respond?"

" I told him no, just handjobs."

"Again referring to the episode in detention?"

"Yes."

"What happened then?"

"He grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall and he said," and Justin remembered every word, " 'Don't you ever mention that again, you little cocksucker.' "

Keisha paused while the court took in Justin's words. Chris' words. His hateful words. The list had gotten pretty long. Almost all of the jurors looked at Hobbs, frozen next to his attorney. _Look at him,_ she wanted to say, _look at that piece of shit that society protected and pampered_ , because it was crystal clear that the school had been at fault as well for not responding to Justin's complaints about Hobbs. And why? Because he came from a good family? Because he was a star athlete? It didn't make any sense. The real reason they hadn't done anything was that homosexuality wasn't in the curriculum. "How did you feel?"

"I thought he was going to hurt me."

"Why?"

"His eyes. . ." Justin closed his but he couldn't block the image of Chris Hobbs' face.

"Did you have a meeting of the Gay Straight Student Alliance?"

"Yes." Justin was subdued, the spark had gone.

"Did anyone come?"

"Yes. Max Freiberg came and a few other people."

"What happened?"

"Daphne and I had just started talking about the club when Mr. Dixon came in and asked us if we had an advisor. All clubs have to have an advisor."

"And did you?"

"Debbie was there."

"Did he accept that?"

"He asked if we had permission to use the classroom."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"He told all the students to leave."

"Did they?"

"Yes."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Disappointed. Because Daphne and I had worked really hard to start the club and Brian had even helped and Debbie too." A hint of futility colored his voice, "And in the end, it didn't matter because Mr. Dixon came along and it was over before it even started."

Kramer caught Keisha's eye. "I'd like to call a short recess, Ms. Thomas, if this is a good place for you."

"It is, Your Honor." She didn't think Justin could last much longer without an emergency infusion of Brian. The moment the break began, she rushed him out of the courtroom, past his friends and family, and upstairs where Brian waited. As she motioned for Deb to leave, Keisha said sotto voice to Brian, "Talk to him, kiss him, make out, do whatever you have to but do something because if you don't, he's gonna lose it out there."

The moment the door shut, Brian tugged on Justin's tie and pulled him to his chest. "Hey, you."

"Hey."

He kissed the teen and when Justin didn't respond, Brian frowned. "First time that's ever happened."

"Sorry."

"I guess it gets old, huh?"

At that Justin smiled and looked up. "Never."

"You sure? That was a pretty piss-poor response to a fairly good kiss."

"Maybe you'd better do it again." Brian kissed him once more, this time pressing harder against Justin's lips, his tongue lingering inside the teen's mouth. They parted. He lifted an eyebrow. Justin crooked his finger and Brian kissed him a third time. This time when they parted, Justin's eyes shone and his mouth was slightly opened.

Brian ran his finger over Justin's lips. "I think that's enough."

The teen whispered, "I want you."

"You have me," Brian replied.

Justin squeezed Brian's forearm. "Say it again."

"You have me." He held Justin's eyes with his own. "Always. No matter what." Smiled. "I've been looking at hotels in Athens."

Laying his head against Brian's chest, Justin said, "I love you."

Brian stroked his hair. "That's my baby."

When Keisha came to get him again, Justin seemed to be his old self again. Flashing a mid-wattage smile at Deb and accepting a peck on the cheek from her, he waved at Brian and returned to court.

Deb took her seat. "I saw Michael and the guys." He nodded, glad they'd come. "Lotta people in that courtroom love and care about him."

"I know."

"But it's not the same, is it?"

"No." Looked away.

"Don't."

"Don't what?" he asked her.

"Blame yourself." She knew him, knew he was thinking about the prom the way he had the entire time Justin had been inside the hospital, blaming himself for Justin's attack because he hadn't gone with him. Because if he had, maybe they wouldn't be here now. 

 

Looking over the chronology of events she'd wanted to cover during Justin's testimony, Keisha saw that there were only four other episodes to discuss before they got to the prom. She hoped they'd be able to cover them before lunch and then deal with the prom in the afternoon.

Once Justin had gotten settled she began. "Let's talk about the incident on Liberty Avenue. Why were you on Liberty Avenue on the evening of your argument with Chris Hobbs?"

"I was going to Woody's with Brian."

"What's Woody's?"

"It's a bar."

"Were you and Brian seeing one another pretty steadily during that time?"

"I guess. I was the only person he was having sex with on a regular basis."

"Could you explain that?"

"He was still having sex with other people."

"Didn't you mind that?"

"Yes, but we weren't dating or anything."

"But you were sleeping with him on a regular basis and you and he apparently went out."

"Yes."

"And you didn't consider that dating?"

"I did. He didn't."

"And that was okay with you?"

How could he explain it to them, how he would have done anything to keep seeing Brian? To not have him drop out of his life? "I wanted to see him, no matter what. So I accepted things the way they were. I tried not to put any demands on him. Because he would have stopped seeing me at all."

"Did you ever think about having a relationship with anyone else?"

He thought of the episode with Kyle, the way the teenager had looked at him with longing in his eyes, wanting him, and it would have been so easy to have encouraged him. Only, the hard part would have been letting go of Brian. "Yes, but I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I loved Brian. That meant something to me."

"Even if it didn't mean anything to him?"

"It did mean something. He just wasn't ready to admit it. He wasn't ready to be in a relationship."

"So you were in a relationship, you just couldn't call it that."

"I guess." And he remembered reading the Michelangelo poem to Kyle, to try and explain his feelings for Brian.

_My wishes are within your will alone,  
Within your heart are my ideas shaped,   
When you have taken breath, then I can speak._

"All right, you were going to Woody's. When did you see Chris Hobbs?"

"We were on the steps, about to go in, and I saw him."

"Did Brian see him?"

"I told him it was Chris Hobbs and he asked me who that was."

"Had you told him about Chris Hobbs before?"

"Yes."

"Had you told Brian about what had happened during detention?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't think he'd like it."

"But you weren't in a relationship and you weren't dating. Why would he care?"

"He would have."

"So it was okay for him to play around but not you?"

"Something like that."

As the jurors stared in disbelief at Justin, Keisha realized, more than ever, she had to find some way to show them how things had changed between the two men. "What did you do after you saw Chris Hobbs and told Brian it was him?"

"I went down to the sidewalk where he was."

"Did the defendant see you?"

"Yes. He said, 'Hey, Taylor.' "

"What did you say?"

"I asked him what he was doing there."

"Did he explain why?"

"He said he came to see the freaks like me."

"Did you respond to that?"

"I told him that down there he was the freak."

"Then what happened?"

"He pushed me and said, 'Get out of the way, you faggot.' And Brian stepped in front of me, like he was going to protect me from Hobbs, but I pushed him back and then I told everybody around us how I had given Chris a handjob in the equipment shed and that he'd loved it."

"What did the defendant do?"

"He told me to shut up and then he told me I was fucked. And he left."

"Did Brian say anything to you?"

"He said I'd made a real enemy."

"Did he explain what he meant by that?"

"Not right then."

"Later?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"That Hobbs was a psychopath and homophobic and that I should be careful." And although he'd listened to Brian, he couldn't have known how prophetic Brian's words would be in the end.

Then Keisha went on to ask him about two other episodes, one the fire in his locker which had destroyed his books and some drawings he had done, one of Brian which he'd been very proud of, gone, the other episode, the rally outside of school where Senator Baxter spoke.

"Did the school ever indicate that they had discovered who set fire to your locker?"

"No."

And about the rally. "Did the school allow you to form the Gay Straight Student Alliance after the rally?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever meet?"

"Once. It was more about just having a club and hoping that the kids in the grades below us would keep it going once we'd graduated."

She turned to the last episode she wanted to cover before she got to the prom. It was getting close to twelve, nearly eleven forty-five. "The week of the prom, did you have a run-in with Chris Hobbs?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I was walking in the hallway in school, during a break between classes, and Chris pushed me down."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He called me a faggot."

"Had you said anything to Chris Hobbs prior to him pushing you down?"

"No. I didn't even know he was there until he came up next to me and pushed me."

"Had you had any other encounters with him between the confrontation outside of Woody's and the episode in the hallway?"

"Just the usual."

"Which was?"

"Him and his friends calling me faggot or queer under their breath when I walked by them or when we were in gym class. Hobbs used to act like I was looking at him and he'd call me names."

"Did you look at him in gym class or in the locker room?"

"No more than I looked at anyone else."

"Did you look at him as if you were sexually interested in him?"

"No." The thought made him feel ill.

"Did you still find him attractive?"

"No." Firmly. "No."

"Did you report any of these incidents to the school authorities?"

"What for? They wouldn't do anything. When I did tell them, all they did was blame me, accuse me of starting trouble." He shook his head. "I was tired of Hobbs and the school and all of it. All I wanted was to graduate and never have to see him or that school ever again."

But that hadn't happened. Before it could happen, Chris Hobbs had taken matters into his own hands and decided that St. James and the world in general would be better off without Justin.

Interpreting Keisha's lull in questioning as an indication of a change of subject, Kramer recessed the court for lunch. This time, after coming down from the witness stand, Justin spoke to his parents and Vic while the rest of the gang gathered around. Chris Hobbs, his parents, and Mason left the courtroom, the defendant casting angry looks in Justin's direction.

The only person to notice was Xavier who had always wondered what Hobbs must have been like to snare Justin's attention. Totally not worth it. He wouldn't have given him a second glance. _Damn_ , he thought, _Justin's head must have been messed up bad by Brian for him to have gone after that guy._

Rennie noticed the object of his scrutiny. "Well?"

Xavier shook his head. "Not even on a dare." They both knew who Xavier wanted.

At that moment a stir brewed up outside the courtroom in the hallway. Instantly, Justin knew it had to be Brian. Then he heard his voice. "Fuck you."

"Shit," he said, moving towards the door.

"Justin. Wait," said Keisha and Emmett caught hold of his sleeve. Brian entered the courtroom with Deb behind him and Emmett let Justin go.

"What was it?" Justin asked.

"Some asshole," grumbled Brian.

"Chris Hobbs?" Keisha asked knowingly.

"Biggest one there is."

"Brian- -"

"I know. I should have stayed upstairs."

Deb said, "I tried to tell him but he wanted to see Justin."

"What's done is done but," she told him, "if you pull a stunt like that again, I'm gonna kick your narrow behind. Got it?"

Everyone waited to see what Brian would say. He cut his eyes. "Whatever."

"No, not whatever, Your Big and Badness." Ted, Emmett, and Michael smirked at the nickname. "I mean it. I want your word. No more foolishness." The two looked at one another and the spectators wouldn't have been surprised to see flames shoot from their eyes.

"Fine." Brian turned his attention back to Justin.

Mel looked at Keisha with newfound respect. Anyone who could get Brian to back down had some mighty big cajones.

"Now," Keisha began, "I'd suggest someone go out and get lunch and that you have it in the witness room. There are too many of you for my office and I have things to do."

Lindsay asked, "Do you want us to get you something?"

"I've got a sandwich in the fridge. I'll see you in an hour." She gathered her papers and led them past the reporters who waited in the hallway, kept away from the door by Sheriff deputies.

As for Michael, he'd seen Jeff but hadn't even made eye contact with him. There was no point now in looking back. It was over. He'd served his purpose and Jeff had tossed him aside. Even though he knew that wasn't exactly how it'd happened, that version made it easier for him to sleep alone at night.

While he and Ted went to get the food, the rest of the gang waited with Brian and Justin. The teen noticed that neither Brian nor his father had spoken to one another. Probably best. Although Craig had seemed to soften towards Justin, he didn't think that change of heart included Brian. And Brian, Justin didn't think, would ever forgive Craig for the things he'd said at his graduation party. They'd hurt too much. After all of the days and nights he'd spent at Justin's side in the hospital, for Craig to say that he was to blame for his son's injuries in the first place was the final straw for Brian.

"Who's baby-sitting Sonny Boy?" Brian asked Lindsay.

"Your mother," she replied after a moment.

He said nothing, just waited until attention had wandered away from him to get up and stand alone staring at nothing. Justin sidled up next to him. Waited. Finally Brian's arm slipped around his shoulders. 

 

**1:40 p.m.**

He knew that the time had come for them to talk about the prom and he dreaded it. Of course, it'd be worse for Brian. Hell, he didn't remember anything about that night past hearing Brian's voice and turning around. Brian had seen everything. But worse, after Keisha finished questioning him about the prom, it'd be the defense's turn to cross-examine him and he dreaded that most of all. Even though Keisha had promised that she'd ask everything she could think of, thus leaving Mason very few avenues of attack, she couldn't anticipate everything. He was afraid of what she'd forgotten or overlooked.

Picking up right where she'd left off, Keisha began again. "All right, the last time you had an altercation with Chris Hobbs was the week of the prom. Considering the fact that you were gay and that you'd had enough of St. James, why'd you decide to go to the prom?"

"I wasn't going to go but Deb and my mom told me that I should, that I would regret it if I didn't. They said it was a rite of passage, like getting your driver's license, and that it wasn't fair to deny myself something just because other people didn't want me there."

"Who did you ask to go to the prom with you?"

"I asked Brian."

"What did he say?"

"He said he wouldn't be caught dead 'in a room full of fuckin' eighteen-year-olds.' "

"He turned you down?"

"Yes."

"Why did you want Brian to go to the prom with you?"

"Because I always thought you were supposed to go to the prom with someone you cared about, someone you loved. And I loved him. I wanted him to go with me. It was an important night and I wanted to share it with him." He didn't dare tell her the other reason, which was that it was a big 'Fuck you' to St. James.

"It must have also been tempting to show up with a male date and disrupt things?"

She'd never asked him that before and it caught him off-guard. "A little."

"What better way to force St. James to pay more than lip service to the idea of tolerance and understanding than to go to the prom with Brian?"

That made him angry, that she'd reduced it to a political statement. "It was more than that. Sure, I liked the idea of shocking everyone but I wanted Brian to come because I loved him, because it was my prom. You only have one senior prom. I wanted him to come and I wanted everyone to see how beautiful he was."

"You wanted to show him off?" She didn't blame him, Brian dressed up real well. Not that the just-tumbled-out-of-bed-and-threw-on-some-clothes-look didn't work for him too.

"Yes."

"But he told you no."

"Yes."

"So who did you go to the prom with?"

"My friend Daphne."

"Did you see Christian Hobbs at the prom?"

"I saw him there, with Lisa Monroe."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No."

"Did you say anything to him?"

"No."

"When did Brian show up?"

"About an hour into the prom."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't see him first. Daphne did. And she pointed to him coming through the door. I looked around and saw him coming. When he got to where we were, I said, 'I thought you said you wouldn't be caught dead in a room full of eighteen-year-olds.' And he said he'd come to recapture his lost youth. Then he told Daphne she looked hot and he kissed her and then he asked her if he could borrow her date."

"What did you think he meant?"

"He'd taken my hand and I thought maybe he meant to dance with me but I couldn't believe it. I didn't really believe it until we got on the dance floor."

"What did the people around you do?"

"They just all stood back. We were the only people dancing."

"Do you remember what song they were playing?"

He smiled softly, he'd never forget for as long as he lived. " 'Save the Last Dance for Me.' "

"And you danced in front of everyone?"

"Yes."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Like I was the luckiest person in the world." His eyes sparkled. "I never thought in a million years that he'd come after he said no. And he looked gorgeous. He was like a model out of a GQ magazine."

"After you finished dancing, then what happened?"

"He kissed me right on the dance floor with everyone looking. And then he took my hand and we headed for the door. Daphne caught up with us and gave him his coat."

"How did she get his coat?"

"I'd taken it off him while we were dancing and thrown it to her."

"After Daphne gave Brian his coat, what did you do?"

"We went to the parking garage. Brian was going to go home and I was going to make sure Daphne got home all right and then meet him at the loft." He could see them together. "We were singing 'Save the Last Dance for Me.' And then we got to the Jeep and stood next to it talking for a while."

"About what?"

"About the prom. I told him that it was the best night of my life."

"And what did Brian say to that?"

"He said, 'Even if it was ridiculously romantic.' " Justin's throat tightened. It always did when he remembered Brian saying that to him, the small smile curled around his lips, as if he couldn't admit that he'd had a good time too but couldn't deny it either.

"Then what happened?"

"He kissed me and then he said, 'Later.' And I said, 'Later,' too and started to walk back inside."

"Could you see anyone else in the parking garage with you?"

"I'd seen a couple just as we were getting close to the Jeep. I think they were leaving too."

"Was it dark in the garage?"

"It was a little dark, you know how parking garages are. It was lit so you could see where you were going and you could see people pretty clearly. But it was at night."

"Did you see the defendant, Chris Hobbs?"

"No. I wish I had."

"What happened next?"

"I was walking back inside and I heard Brian call out to me. His voice sounded so strange. He was shouting and he hardly ever shouted unless he was angry."

"Did he sound angry?"

"No. He sounded scared."

"Then what happened?"

"I turned around and I saw, I saw. . ." He tried to visualize it in his head. It was so confusing because it all happened so fast and he was never sure if he'd actually seen Brian or just imagined it or if he'd seen the bat or Chris Hobbs but everything and everyone just kind of blurred together and he wasn't sure. "I don't know. I thought I saw Brian and then something blocked my view, but I can't be sure. Everything happened so fast."

"What's the next thing you remember?"

"Waking up in the hospital. My mom was sitting next to me."

"Did you know what had happened to you?"

"No."

"Did your mother tell you?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"That I'd been hit in the head with a baseball bat. That Chris Hobbs had done it."

"Did Brian come to see you?"

"In the morning. He'd gone home because he was exhausted. He came in the morning and saw me. I'd started asking for him as soon as I regained consciousness. I was afraid he'd been hurt too. I didn't believe that he was all right until I saw him." He'd been terrified that Chris Hobbs had hurt him as well. Turns out he had. Only no one could see it, except for Justin.

"How did you feel, physically?"

"Like I'd been hit in the head with a baseball bat." Several people in the audience laughed. The judge let it go. "I felt horrible. My head hurt like crazy and I couldn't really move my arms or legs or anything. I wasn't paralyzed, just really weak."

"How long were you in the hospital?"

"A week and a half. Then they let me go home but I had to go to the doctor's like every two days, it seemed."

"Does your head still bother you?"

"Sometimes."

"Headaches?"

"Sometimes so bad that I can hardly see. But it doesn't happen often." The last time it'd happened, Brian had held him and put cold compresses on his head until he'd fallen asleep.

"Are you still taking medication?"

"Only if I need it."

"Do you think about what happened to you?"

"I have nightmares about it sometimes."

"Do you remember the nightmares?"

"Some of them."

"Could you describe one?"

"Objection, Your Honor. Relevance."

"I'll allow it. Overruled."

"I dreamt once that Chris Hobbs had hit me in the back of the head with that bat and I fell and he called me a faggot and hit me again and killed me." The dream he'd had just this Sunday.

"Are you afraid of Chris Hobbs, Justin?"

"No." The teen's eyes were clear and his voice was steady as he spoke.

"Why not?"

"Because he didn't kill me. Because Brian protected me."

"Objection, Your Honor!"

"Sustained. Jury, please disregard the witness' last statement. It will be stricken from the record."

"Justin, how has your life changed as a result of the attack?"

He thought about it. "I'm with Brian." That was the most important change in his life and the only one he really cared about.

Keisha could have kissed him. Although almost everyone in that courtroom would have understood if he'd answered with something negative, he'd impressed them, instead, with the fact that what he valued was the love he'd found with Brian, that love was more important than revenge or hatred. He didn't have an axe to grind, he just wanted justice, because he didn't need revenge, he had love. "No further questions, Your Honor."

Kramer finished making some notes. "We'll have a short, ten minute recess, and reconvene at two fifty-five at which time the defense will cross-examine the witness."

Justin stepped down and went over to where Keisha stood next to the prosecution's table. "Did I do okay?"

"You did okay. Brian would be proud of you."

Jennifer came up and touched his arm. "Honey, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"That your father and I didn't listen to you. I can't imagine what it must have been like. I'm sorry. The only excuse I have is. . . I didn't know what to do."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." She turned slightly, Craig had joined her. "We should have done more."

"Your mother's right." The words seemed to weigh heavily on him. "We- - I failed you, Justin, and I'm sorry. I didn't know. You tried to tell me but I didn't want to hear it." He looked down momentarily. "I suppose I owe Brian more than an apology."

"He'd settle for that." Justin saw Michael approaching, wondered what he wanted.

"Hey, Boy Wonder."

"Hey."

Michael seemed to shuffle his feet even though he didn't move. He had that ability. "Look, he's lucky to have you. I know I give you a hard time sometimes but I mean it. I'm glad Brian's with you."

Amazed, Justin asked, "You mean it?"

"Yeah."

A devilish twinkle in his blue eyes, Justin said, "Can I have that in writing? Maybe permanent ink?"

"You little asshole."

Justin laughed then caught sight of Chris Hobbs out of the corner of his eye. Mason was making some notes on a pad. He wasn't looking forward to the attorney's questions. Keisha saw the direction of his gaze.

"Don't worry. Remember what I said about snakes?" He nodded. "Don't forget it. Plus, any damage he thinks he might do on cross, I can undo on redirect. I promise you." 

 

Brian opened his cellphone and closed it again. Held it in his hand. Opened it again then shut it and put it away.

"You should call her."

"You should mind your own business."

"I am."

He glanced at her and he had to admit that she'd been more of a mother to him than Joanie Kinney. But he would have endured hot burning coals beneath his feet than admit that to her. Still, he knew that she knew and that was good enough. "She doesn't want to talk to me."

"Then talk to Gus. I bet he misses his Da da."

"Misses pulling my hair, and ruining my fucking DVD player, and driving me crazy."

She laughed. "Who would have ever thought? Brian Kinney, a daddy. Just wait until he turns sixteen."

"Hopefully, I'll be senile by then and I won't care."

"At the ripe old age of forty-five."

"Do you have to say that out loud?"

Deb hit him on the arm. "Stop being such a drama queen."

He chuckled. He'd said pretty much the same thing to Justin last night. Thinking about Gus at sixteen, he mused, "I wonder if he'll be straight?"

"Let's see, his father's gay, and he's got two lesbian mommies. Stranger things have happened."

"Christ." He raked his hand through his hair. "I don't care. As long as he's not as screwed up as I was."

"You weren't screwed up. You were just a little rough around the edges."

Brian thought about himself in high school, a tall, lanky bundle of anger. "A little? I'm surprised I lived through it." But he knew why he had. Michael and Deb. Softly, he said, "Thanks."

Saying nothing, she patted him on the arm. 

 

**2:55 p.m.**

Taking the stand once more, Justin this time looked down at a different face. Raymond Mason. The man was in his late forties, not as thin as his dad but not fat, just healthy Deb would call him. Dye job on his hair. A good dye job but Justin had learned from the master how to spot them. Despite being healthy, he had a lean and hungry look. Justin remembered the description from _Julius Caesar_ , of Cassius. He supposed Brian had a lean and lazy look. He never looked hungry, just mildly interested. Even back when he used to go prowling, he'd looked more like a lazy leopard than a wolf on the hunt. He supposed it was because Brian had never really had to work to get guys into his bed. He had beckoned and they had come. In droves. Just as his attention returned to the proceedings, he realized that Mason had said something to him and he hadn't heard him.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"I asked you if Christian Hobbs solicited you to give him a handjob in the equipment shed?"

Keisha bounded from her seat. "Objection, Your Honor, counsel is attempting to vilify Mr. Taylor with his use of the word 'solicited'."

"Sustained."

"Did Christian Hobbs ask you to give him a handjob in the equipment shed?"

"No."

"When Christian Hobbs related the story of his sexual experience with Mary Frances Cudawindo, did you tell him you were gay?"

"No."

"Did you consider yourself to be gay?"

"Yes."

"Did you indicate at all to Mr. Hobbs that you were interested in him sexually?"

"No."

"Did you say anything to Mr. Hobbs before you gave him the handjob?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"I told him he was hard."

"Did Mr. Hobbs respond to your statement?"

"No."

"What was he doing?"

"He had his eyes closed and he was rubbing himself."

"And he had an erection?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you touch him when he first started telling his story?"

Justin was silent.

"Your Honor, could you please instruct the witness to answer the question?"

"Mr. Taylor, answer the question."

"I didn't think he'd let me."

"So you waited until he had an erection, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I figured he wouldn't care."

"He wouldn't care about what?"

"That it was me jerking him off."

"Was Mr. Hobbs excited?"

"Yes."

"How long did you stroke him before he ejaculated?"

"Maybe a minute."

"Did you get an erection while touching Mr. Hobbs?"

That he had ever found Hobbs desirable continued to haunt him long after such feelings had died. "Yes," he said, the word barely audible.

"Could you speak up, please?"

"I said yes."

"Were you pleased at the way the encounter went?"

"Yes."

"Did Mr. Hobbs indicate to you that he'd be open to another such encounter?"

"No." _And even if he had, I wouldn't have wanted to._ It had been a one-time only thing.

"You've said that you made sketches of the football team; did you sketch Christian Hobbs?"

"Yes."

"Did you draw more than one picture of him?"

"Yes."

"Did you draw any nude pictures of Christian Hobbs?"

Justin hesitated. "Yes."

"Were these drawn from observations?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"In the locker room at school."

"Were these pictures drawn prior to the incident in detention?"

"Yes."

"Let's talk about your relationship with Mr. Kinney. You've testified that he didn't want anything to do with you after you spent the night with him. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Could you describe the occasion of your second sexual encounter with Mr. Kinney?"

"I went to Babylon and we danced together and he took me home with him."

"What's Babylon?"

"A club."

"Did Mr. Kinney seek you out?"

"No."

"So you went looking for him."

"Yes."

"Had you had any contact with him between your first and second sexual encounters?"

"Yes."

"Would you describe them?"

"I talked to him at Woody's and then at his apartment."

"Did he invite you to Woody's?"

"No."

"Did he come looking for you at Woody's?"

"No."

"Did you go looking for him?"

"Yes."

"Did he invite you back to his apartment?"

"No."

"Did you just show up?"

"Yes."

"You're pretty persistent, Mr. Taylor."

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained."

"What about your third sexual encounter with him? Do you remember it?"

"Yes."

"Did Mr. Kinney initiate the encounter?"

"No." It looked just as it had happened: that he had pursued Brian. Relentlessly.

"Mr. Taylor, has Mr. Kinney used recreational drugs?"

Keisha again objected. "What does Mr. Kinney's hypothetical drug use have to do with the facts of this case?"

"Your Honor, I'm trying to establish the kind of environment in which Mr. Taylor frequented. I believe it's important in order to determine the motives for his actions."

"I'll allow it."

Smugly, Mason asked, "Has Mr. Kinney used recreational drugs during the time you've known him?"

"Yes."

"Has he ever given you any drugs?"

Justin glanced at his parents. "Yes."

"What specifically?"

"Poppers, Ecstasy, and he blew smoke from a marijuana cigarette into my mouth once." Brian hadn't offered him drugs very often, knowing how allergic Justin was to so many things and because the teen hadn't expressed a keen interest in consuming them.

"Could you explain what poppers are?"

"Amyl nitrate."

"And what does it do?"

"It's a stimulant."

"And the Ecstasy?"

"Pretty much the same."

"Did Mr. Kinney take any drugs the night you first met?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"E. Ecstasy."

"Did you take any?"

"No."

"You've said that you went to bars and clubs with Mr. Kinney, how did you get in since you were underage?"

"I had a fake I.D."

"And did you consume alcohol while you were in these clubs and bars?"

"Yes."

"Using your fake I.D.?"

"Sometimes."

"Did Mr. Kinney buy drinks for you?"

"Sometimes."

"Did he give you alcohol in his home?"

"Yes."

"You've testified that Mr. Kinney had sex with a number of men other than yourself. Prior to the prom, had you ever witnessed Mr. Kinney having sex with another man?"

Unfortunately, he had. "Yes."

"What were the circumstances?"

"I was living with him. He brought this guy home and the guy started to give him a blow job while I was watching." But there had been so much more going on than just some guy going down on Brian. That episode had been about Brian, in his usually unsubtle way, explaining to Justin exactly how things stood between them. It had been about him defending his territory.

"Could you explain what a blow job is?"

Oh come on. . . "The guy got down on his knees and sucked Brian's dick."

"The witness will please observe proprieties when answering," Kramer instructed.

"He's asking me what blow jobs are and you want me to observe proprieties?"

Kramer addressed Justin again. "Young man, unless you're reporting someone's words exactly as they were spoken, you will refrain from using coarse language in this courtroom. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Mason continued. "Excluding Mr. Kinney and Christian Hobbs, prior to the prom, how many men or teenagers had you had sex with, Mr. Taylor?"

"Not many."

"Don't you know how many? Less than ten, more than twenty?"

"Objection. Counsel is badgering the witness," said Keisha.

"Sustained."

"I apologize, Your Honor. Approximately, how many men had you had sex with other than Mr. Kinney and Mr. Hobbs prior to the prom?"

"Four."

"Was this during the time that you said you were in love with Mr. Kinney?"

"Yes."

"How often did you go out to bars or clubs?"

"Maybe two or three times a week."

"Is it true you won the King of Babylon contest?"

Justin's eyes widened involuntarily and Keisha almost audibly sighed. There was no point in objecting. If Kramer allowed the question about the drugs, he'd allow this. "Yes."

"What did you have to do to win this contest?"

"Dance in front of the guys in the club."

"Just dance?"

"I stripped too."

Craig turned to Jennifer. Obviously she had never told him the truth about the Bahamas trip.

"Completely naked?"

"No."

"Was Mr. Kinney there when you did your striptease act?"

"Objection."

"Your Honor, the witness has just admitted that he stripped in front of a club full of gay men."

"Overruled."

"Was Mr. Kinney there?"

"Yes."

"Did you win a prize?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"A trip to the Bahamas."

"Did you and Mr. Kinney go back to his apartment to celebrate?"

"No."

"Did you go home alone?"

"No."

"Who did you go home with?"

"A guy I met at Babylon." And that little incident had almost caused an irreparable rift between him and Brian. Even now it frightened him to think how much he'd hurt Brian by taking Sean away from him, and more so by having sex with him period.

"Let's go back to a couple of your altercations with Christian Hobbs. When Mr. Hobbs punched you in the locker room, where did he hit you?"

"In the mouth."

"Did your lip or mouth begin to bleed?"

"Yes."

"You testified that you spat on him. Did you spit blood on him?"

"Yes."

Keisha knew what Mason was getting at, but how many people really still believed that spitting on someone, even spitting blood on them, on their shirt, would infect them with the HIV virus? She jotted down a possible question to ask on redirect.

"On the day of your suspension, when you arrived in the classroom, had Christian Hobbs addressed you in any way?"

"No."

"Did Max Freiberg ask for your help?"

"No."

"Did Max Freiberg explain to Mr. Dixon what had happened in class before he arrived?"

"No."

Switching gears, Mason asked, "That night on Liberty Avenue, when you saw Christian Hobbs coming down the sidewalk, where were you in relation to him?"

"I was above him on the steps of Woody's."

"How far away do you think you were from him?"

"Maybe thirty feet or so."

"Were you almost in the bar or on the bottom step?"

"I was almost in the bar."

"Did Christian Hobbs call out to you?"

"No."

"Did you call out to him?"

"No."

"Did you go down the steps and address him?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you go inside the bar?"

"I wanted to know why he was on Liberty Avenue."

"Didn't he have as much right to be there as you?"

"I thought he didn't like faggots."

"You didn't answer my question. He had as much right to be there as you did, correct?"

"Yes."

"How tall is Mr. Kinney?"

"Six three and a half."

"So he's taller than you or Christian Hobbs?"

"Yes."

"You testified that Mr. Kinney stepped in front of you after Christian Hobbs pushed you. Did Mr. Kinney touch Christian Hobbs?"

"No."

"But he stood between the two of you?"

"Yes."

"Did he tell you to drop it and come inside the bar?"

"No."

"Did he try to break up the confrontation?"

"No."

"Did Mr. Kinney seem pleased that you had confronted Christian Hobbs?"

"No." And he hadn't been pleased at all. In fact, his had been the only negative reaction among his friends. But events had proven him right.

"Let's talk about the night of the prom. You said that the other students cleared the floor when you and Mr. Kinney danced. Did you see Christian Hobbs among the students?"

"No."

"But you could see other students?"

"Yes."

"Did they look shocked?"

"Yes."

"Did they look happy?"

"Not really."

"Did they look angry?"

"Some."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I didn't care."

Mason returned to the table for the defense. "No more questions, Your Honor."

"Redirect?" he asked Keisha.

Despite Mason's attempts to cast aspersions on Justin's character, Keisha didn't believe that he'd done a very good job at all. Especially since most of his questions concerned Brian. It'd pissed her off that Kramer had allowed the line of questioning at all but she didn't think it'd done much damage to Justin's testimony as the sheer number of altercations between him and Hobbs tended to overshadow anything else. What the jury would remember more than anything were the number of times Chris Hobbs had called Justin a faggot, a queer, a bitch, a cocksucker, the number of times Chris Hobbs had pushed or hit him. So what if he took a toke with Brian or had sex with a grand total of six guys by the time he'd graduated high school? No, she wouldn't even bother to address Mason's insinuations. Let the jury think that they weren't important. "No, Your Honor."

"The witness is dismissed." To Keisha as Justin left the stand. "Call your next witness."

"The People call Lane Jenkins, Your Honor."

Justin took a seat next to his mom. He was trembling. Felt her touch his arm. More than anything, he wanted to leave the courtroom and go upstairs where Brian was. He hoped they ended soon.

Lane, the African-American student who'd pulled Justin back from Chris Hobbs when they fought in the locker room, came into the courtroom and was sworn in. He took the stand. Keisha asked him a few preliminary questions about what he was doing now (going to University of Pennsylvania) and then questioned him as to what he'd seen and heard that day. He basically corroborated what Justin had testified to, namely that Chris Hobbs had instigated the altercation.

"After Justin spat on Chris Hobbs, did Chris Hobbs say or do anything?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"He told Justin he would kill him."

"Were those his exact words?"

"No." The young man paused. "He said, 'I'll kill you, you fucking faggot.' "

After Keisha had finished with him, Mason got up and asked him a couple questions about his relationship to Justin. Basically, there hadn't been any. Lane had been in a couple of Justin's classes but they hadn't been friends. He had known Justin but they hadn't hung out together. Same thing with Christian Hobbs. Lane had known him but they hadn't traveled in the same social circles. Keisha wondered what social circles the black youth had traveled in, if any.

Lane was dismissed and they called Max Freiberg to the stand. Justin hadn't kept up with Max since graduation but he knew Max had been headed to MIT. It looked as if the three months in Cambridge had done him a world of good. He even looked taller to Justin. Maybe it was because he'd gotten out from under the thumb of St. James and its resident goons. If there had been anyone Justin had felt even more sorry for than himself, it'd been Max. He had always gotten picked on because he had been a smart kid among smart kids.

Listening to Max answer Keisha's questions, Justin learned that he was studying molecular physics. And that he'd joined a gay and lesbian student organization. _Good for him._

Keisha asked, "The day Justin was suspended, you had a run-in with Chris Hobbs, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"Chris came in and bumped into me as he was going to his seat."

"Did he bump you hard?"

"Yes."

"Did you think it was an accident?"

"Objection."

"Sustained."

"Did Hobbs say anything to you after he bumped you?"

"He said, 'Excuse me, faggot.' "

"Then what happened?"

"I said that I wasn't a faggot and he said I looked like one and asked me if I wanted to suck his cock."

"Were those his words?"

"Yes."

"How did you respond?"

"I didn't. That's when Daphne and Justin came in. Daphne asked Hobbs if he couldn't come up with something more original than that."

"What did Justin say?"

"He told Hobbs to leave me alone."

"Did you say anything else to Hobbs that morning?"

"No."

"Did you tell Mr. Dixon what had happened when he came in?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"The kind Justin got in."

"Could you explain that?"

"He and Chris Hobbs got in a fight and Mr. Dixon blamed Justin. Justin got suspended. That kind of trouble."

"Was that the first time you'd had problems with Chris Hobbs?"

"Objection, your honor."

"Your Honor, Mr. Mason has questioned Mr. Taylor about his sexual relations with Mr. Kinney and other persons, about his drug use, about a contest he won, I believe this is just as relevant."

"Overruled."

Keisha breathed easier. "Was the episode in your homeroom the first time you'd had problems with Chris Hobbs?"

"No. He used to call me faggot or queer all the time and shove me around. Him and his friends. Justin and I weren't the only ones. Justin was just the only person to ever fight back."

"Did you attend the meeting of the Gay Straight Student Alliance?"

"Yes."

"You didn't think you'd get in trouble?"

"I thought, at least, there'd be other people. I wouldn't be alone anymore."

"How was the meeting?"

"There was no meeting. Just as Daphne and Justin started talking, Mr. Dixon came in and told us to leave."

"Did you attend the rally Senator Baxter and PFLAG had to force the school to allow the GSSA?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want my parents to see me on television protesting for a gay club."

"It was for straight students too."

"None of the straight kids protested. If I had, they'd have known I was gay then."

"Do your parents know you're gay now?"

"Yes. I told them after Justin got attacked."

"Were you at the prom?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to go. What was the point? It was for straight kids. Not for gay kids."

"Did you know who Brian Kinney was?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I'd seen him drop Justin off at school in the morning sometimes. And after the GSSA fiasco, I asked Justin if he was his boyfriend."

"What did you think about that?"

"I thought it was kind of cool. To have a boyfriend at all, much less one that was twenty-nine. He showed me this picture of them. Together."

"How did you feel after Justin got attacked?"

Max's confidence seemed to wan. "I thought that's what happens to gay kids. And nobody cares. And if you do care, if you try to do something about it, like Justin had, that's what happens to you."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

Mason stood and asked Max if he'd had any feelings for Justin. "Were you attracted to him?"

"No."

"You didn't think he was attractive?"

"He's attractive. He's just not my type."

The guys sniggered. _Why was it people thought gay men automatically wanted to make it with every other gay man?_

"Did you think Brian Kinney is attractive?"

"Objection."

"I'm just trying to determine if Mr. Freiberg had any other ulterior motives for supporting Mr. Taylor."

"If he wanted Brian, he would have been less supportive of Justin, don't you think?"

"Counselors. Objection sustained. Move on, Mr. Mason."

"Thank you, Your Honor. No more questions."

"Call your next witness, Ms. Thomas."

"The People calls Jordan McLachlan."

Justin knew that the guy was one of the witnesses from Liberty Avenue. Keisha had said that it was better to find an objective witness rather than Emmett or Ted. Considering the number of guys Brian had slept with, Justin wondered how objective the guy really was. He hoped Keisha had asked McLachlan if he'd ever had sex with Brian. That'd be something they wouldn't want to find out on cross.

After the preliminary questions, she got to the heart of the matter. "Mr. McLachlan, did you witness the argument between Justin Taylor and Christian Hobbs on Liberty Avenue?"

"Yes."

"Did you know either of the participants?"

"Not personally. I'd seen the Taylor kid around, with Brian."

"Did you know Brian Kinney?"

"I knew who he was."

"Had you ever had sex with Mr. Kinney?"

"No, I'm not his type." Again, laughter from the audience remembering Max's responses to Mason's questions about Justin.

"Did you see the entire altercation?"

"I didn't pay any attention to them until Brian went over and stood in front of Justin."

"Did you pay attention after that?"

"Yes. Because Justin started talking loudly."

"What did he say?"

"He said that the kid's name was Christian Hobbs and that he went to his school. Then Justin said that he'd given the Hobbs kid a handjob and that Hobbs had loved it."

"What happened then?"

"Christian Hobbs told Justin to shut up and then he said Justin was fucked and he left."

"Did you hear anything else?"

"No, we left after that."

"Was there a big crowd around listening to Justin?"

"About thirty people maybe."

"Were there any people with Christian Hobbs?"

" A girl and another couple. I remember because they followed him when he left."

"Did anyone in the crowd make threatening motions against Hobbs or the other kids?"

"No. We just laughed when Justin told about Hobbs loving the handjob."

"Why?"

"Because there's lots of straight guys who hate gay guys but they'll let one suck them off or jack them off, no problem. The problems come in afterwards."

"What do you mean?"

"A baseball bat to the head."

"Objection."

"Sustained. Jury please disregard the witness' last statement. It will be stricken from the record."

"No further questions, Your Honor." Keisha sat down, immensely satisfied. Both Max and McLachlan had been the perfect witnesses.

"Mr. Mason?"

"Mr. McLachlan, you made a statement about straight guys and gay guys having sex. Are you speaking from experience?"

"I've had sex with a few supposedly straight guys."

Keisha's ears perked up. Supposedly. She glanced at Chris Hobbs who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"And you've never had sex with either Brian Kinney or Justin Taylor?"

Keisha didn't bother to object on the grounds that McLachlan had already answered that question. Let Mason flounder.

"No, I'd remember."

Titters.

"Do you find either of them attractive?"

"They're walking wet dreams."

The gallery erupted in laughter.

Kramer scowled. "If I have to warn the spectators again regarding their behavior I will clear this courtroom."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

"Redirect?"

Standing at her table, Keisha asked, "You said that you'd had sex with a few supposedly straight guys. What did you mean by that?"

"Just that. They claim that they're straight but they're out there having sex with other men. So much for being straight."

"No further questions." She sat, pleased that Mason had opened that door.

Kramer dismissed the witness and then announced that court would adjourn for the day and reconvene at nine a.m. on Thursday.

As soon as court was done, the guys made their way over to Justin and everyone hugged him, even Rennie. But Justin wanted to get to Brian. Keisha had made him swear not to move until she got back to her office. So they all trekked upstairs where the ad exec waited impatiently.

He was standing by the window, his profile outlined against the setting sun. As the door opened, he turned, his face cast in shadow and for a moment he was a stranger to Justin, but then he stepped away from the window, his features becoming clearer, and Justin wondered how he could ever have not known him. He embraced him, arms around his slender frame, and took comfort from his presence. He'd wanted to be with Brian all afternoon.

"You okay?" the man asked, his voice like satin brushing over Justin's skin.

"Yeah," he replied looking up at him and smiling.

"That's my baby." Kissed him on the lips and murmured, "Mmm. . . Can we get rid of these loafers and go home?" They all stood looking in at them through the open doorway.

"They want to come."

"Shit."

"They're bringing food."

"I'm not hungry."

 _For food_ , Justin thought. "They can't stay forever," he promised.

"It'll just feel like it."

Keisha came in, cleared her throat, and put down her trial notebook and papers. "Could I talk to Brian alone for a minute?"

Justin parted from him and exited out into the outer office to wait with the rest of their friends.

Keisha closed the door behind him. "Have a seat." He did. "You're testifying tomorrow. So I want to get some things straight right up front." She'd expected him to say something smartassed but he actually looked serious, as if he were really listening to her. Even better, he looked a little scared. "It's going be rough out there. I'm going to ask you questions that you may not want to answer. Just like we did in the intense sessions. Only, it'll be worse, because there'll be a judge and a jury and a court full of spectators. And Christian Hobbs. It'll be worse because Mason is going to cross-examine you; and I don't want you arguing with him and I don't want you getting into a screaming match with him. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"The Judge is going to give him a lot of leeway because you're older, because you're the one who corrupted Justin."

"Despite the fact that Justin came after me?"

"It doesn't matter." She watched as he processed that information and came to terms with it. She saw him question himself and then a mask slid down over his features as he told himself he didn't care. That worried her. She didn't want him on the stand freaking out but she didn't want him to come across as aloof and uncaring. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she knew what it was going to be like and she didn't think that calm facade would last past the first tough question. "Look, I'll lay it out for you. Even though they all know what Hobbs did to Justin, even though he had a history of violence towards Justin, they're all looking at him and seeing another kid, a kid just like Justin, and they're looking for someone else to blame: the school, the parents. . .you. And it's easier to blame you than to deal with the fact that the society they value helped create that little asshole." The front he had put on began to dissolve and she wished she hadn't had to spell it out like that, but it was better to be forewarned and forearmed than to be caught unawares. Moving away from the desk and standing in front of him, she looked down into hazel eyes that had gone cloudy. "Go home, have dinner with your friends, spend some time with Justin- -"

"Is that a euphemism for sex?" he asked smirking.

"And get a good night's sleep." She shook her head. "You're incorrigible." Keisha opened the door for him.

As he passed by her, he brushed his lips over her cheek. "See ya."

Shocked beyond words, she could only stand and watch him join his friends and family. Was there no one that man wouldn't flirt with? Maybe he'd flirt with Mason and disconcert him enough to get him off-balance. She wouldn't be surprised. 

 

Lindz and Mel were out picking up Gus while Deb and Vic had gone to get the food. The rest of the gang (minus Craig and Jenn and Molly) sprawled around the loft trying not to talk about the trial. Xavier and Rennie caught Justin up with the class stuff he'd missed on Monday and Tuesday.

"You guys don't have to come anymore."

"Oh," said Rennie, "you've done your star turn so there's no point in seeing the rest of the play, huh?"

"It's not a play," he said a little more harshly than he'd intended.

Aware that she'd put her foot in her mouth once again, she apologized. "Sorry."

"No," he replied, "I'm sorry. He's still got to testify." Justin put down his can of soda. "I don't know what's gonna happen."

"They oughta let him kick Christian Hobbs' ass," Xavier said. "Ten minutes alone in that witness waiting room and there wouldn't be any need for a fuckin' trial."

Justin looked at Xavier, at the anger in his eyes, anger at Hobbs on his behalf.

"Is that how they do it in the hood?" Rennie asked.

"Rennie!" Justin said, amazed that she continued to say the wrong thing. "Shut up."

She zipped her lip.

"Now, if that were only permanent," said Xavier.

"I have to eat."

"See?"

She rezipped.

Justin took advantage of the brief moment of silence to ask Xavier if he were going home for Thanksgiving. "Lindsay's having a big dinner at her house and Brian promised we would go."

"Yeah, my grandma always has Thanksgiving at her place. All my aunts and uncles and cousins come home and help out. It's pretty cool. The one good time out of the entire year."

"What about Christmas?"

"It's okay."

Wanting to ask Xavier why he'd said it like that, Justin was painfully aware of Rennie's rapt attention. He wondered if Xavier had told her about them and decided he hadn't because no way could she have kept that to herself and not said something tactless. Which meant their secret was safe. For now.

Brian went into the bathroom and closed the door. Took out his cellphone. Dialed a number and waited for an answer. "Doc."

On the other end, Drew put down the file he'd been making notations in. "I've been wondering when you'd call."

"Well, today's your lucky day."

"What do you need?"

Hating to admit that he needed anything, Brian said, "For you to come tomorrow. To court." A muscle in his cheek flexed.

"Bad?"

"The fuckin' worst."

"You doing the exercises I gave you?"

"If I visualize me and Justin on the beach in the Bahamas one more time, I'm gonna go out of my fuckin' mind."

Drew heard the note of desperation in his voice. "You should have called me."

"I wanted. . ." Brian began, then paused, "I wanted to do this on my own."

"There's no shame in needing help."

Wanting to resolve this before Justin came looking for him, Brian asked, "So you'll come?"

"I'll be there."

"Thanks." He closed the cellphone and bowed his head. Checked his appearance in the mirror. What was the point? Justin would know if he were pretending and he was too tired to pretend anyway. Only, it wasn't fair to Justin, for the teenager to have to take care of him after the hell he'd gone through the past two days. Brian turned from his image. "Get it together," he whispered to himself. Closed his eyes and did the deep breathing exercises Drew had taught him. Feeling calmer, he went out to rejoin the throng.

Forty-five minutes later he was chasing Gus through his bedroom, the baby having decided that his daddy's closet was vastly more interesting than any of the toys Lindz had brought for him. Joanie hadn't come with Mel and Lindsay but Brian hadn't been surprised. He'd been shocked that she'd even agreed to baby-sit Gus. He didn't ask either of the Munchers if she'd said anything about him. He was trying not to care. Gus was making that easier. Finally, he 'caught' the baby and tossed him lightly upon the bed. Joined the giggling toddler and stretched out while Gus crawled around him. After a while Justin appeared in the doorway.

"You all right?"

"Gus was about to drool all over my white Yves Saint Laurent."

"I love that suit," he said, crossing to the bed and dropping down next to Brian to sit on the edge. He'd worn it in the Bahamas to the Sun And. . . Restaurant. Gus crawled over to Justin and sat in his lap. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Brian smiled. "See? I'm smiling."

"They'll be gone soon."

"And. . .?" Justin did a dance with his tongue. "Nasty, little boy."

"Just the way you like me."

". . . love you," Brian corrected.

Emmett peeked in, holding a Cosmopolitan in his hand, and called over his shoulder. "Hey! The party's in here."

Groaning, Brian prepared for the horde to invade. 

 

With a gentle kiss to the back of Justin's neck, Brian withdrew and lay next to him. After a moment he reached for the washcloth and cleaned them both. Then Justin rolled over and curled against his side and they kissed drowsily, lips barely pressing together, just a wisp of a touch. "I love you," Justin whispered in between kisses.

Brian brushed Justin's bangs back from his forehead. Saw the scar there, pale against the teen's pale skin, faintly visible. He started to touch it but hesitated.

"It doesn't hurt," Justin assured him.

He didn't reply; instead he kissed Justin's forehead and closed his eyes, settling down to sleep. But he didn't sleep, he just lay there with his eyes closed pretending to do so until Justin began to snore softly. Then, carefully, he disengaged his lover's arms from around him and left the bed, checking with every other step to make sure the teen remained asleep. Grabbing his black robe from the foot of the bed, he went into the living room, finding Justin's _Wraeththu_ book first, and sat on the couch reading. Only, after he'd turned the page, he'd forget what it was he had just read. Finally, he gave up and put the book down, saving it for another time.

He could see the bottle of bourbon from where he was. One or two shots and maybe he'd be able to drop off, clear his head, or cloudy it so he couldn't concentrate, couldn't keep returning to a moment that had never occurred: him on the witness stand with Mason grilling him. All it would take was one shot, maybe two and he would sink into sweet oblivion, at least for a couple hours.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into a pair of blue eyes dark with worry. "Restless," he explained.

"I must be doing something wrong. I usually tire you out a little."

But Brian didn't smile at Justin's joke. "I'll be in soon."

Justin waited.

Sighing, Brian got up and returned to bed. It didn't pay to do otherwise. 

 

**Thursday, November 15th**

**8:45 a.m.**

_It must have been like this during the French Revolution_ he told himself, feeling like one of the aristocracy on his way to the guillotine. There was Madame LeFarge shouting for his head. Only, instead of knitting, she had a sign, which she raised so that he'd be sure to see what it said, "Stop Preying on Our Children." Another kick, another stone thrown before he ascended the steps to the scaffold. But she wasn't the only one. He'd noticed the way some of the eyes of the gay rights people seemed to slide away from him. Justin was an easy cause, he was something else again. Having paused for a second, he let Justin lead him inside and to the witness waiting room. Keisha was there as well in the empty room. Deb hadn't come in since Keisha had told her that Brian's testimony would probably take all of today and most of tomorrow. Daphne was due to arrive tonight from Princeton, in anticipation of taking the stand late tomorrow afternoon or Monday.

The Assistant District Attorney looked him over, approved of his attire and hair, Brian having tamed it a little this morning. He looked like a respectable junior executive. With exquisite taste.

The inspection over, Brian took a seat. Crossed his legs.

"The bailiff'll come and get you when it's time for you to testify."

" 'kay."

"Well," she said, "I'm going inside. Justin?"

"In a minute."

Waiting until she'd left, Justin went to Brian, leaned over, and kissed him. "Later."

Brian blinked. "Later." Watched Justin walk away. His fingers gripped the arms of his chair, the tips white where they pressed against the wood. Gradually, he released his hold, folded his hands in his lap. 

 

His dad hadn't come today, he hadn't expected him to, but his mom was there. Lindsay sat next to her. Michael was there too, with Vic and Emmett. He didn't see Mel or Ted, which meant they couldn't get away from the office today. Justin had found out last night that Emmett was working the evening shift to make up for the time he was spending in court. So was Michael. He and Brian were lucky to have friends like that. He didn't think Brian would have wanted to be in court today without Michael. Even if they didn't talk about things the way they used to, Brian still loved Michael, still needed him, and Justin was okay with that. They were best friends, would always be best friends. Brian needed that and, truthfully, Justin did too. Brian was definitely high maintenance and it was nice to have a support system of friends who could help out.

Taking his seat next to Lindsay, Justin said hi to her and his mom and the guys and settled down to wait for court to begin. Understanding that he wasn't in the mood to talk, no one said much to him or to one another. Although he didn't want to, he looked over at Chris Hobbs. He sat, as he had the other days of the trial, with a grim look on his face. Justin supposed he'd look just as grim if he were facing prison time. _Maybe Hobbs should have thought of that before he took a baseball bat to my head._ It still amazed him, even after all this time, that Hobbs had hated him enough to try to kill him. He just didn't understand how a person made the leap from pushing and shoving to swinging a bat at someone's head. Even now, even after all Hobbs had done to him, Justin, if given the opportunity, wouldn't have done that to him. Brian was another matter. He'd probably happily bash Chris' head in if he could. But he hadn't. When he'd held that bat in his hands, he hadn't done anything more than stop Chris from fleeing. He'd hit him in the knee and dropped the bat and gone back to check on Justin. Because he loved Justin more than he hated Chris.

His thoughts were interrupted by the start of today's session. 

 

He could hear the reporters out in the hallway as he made his way to the courtroom, following the bailiff. They were all hoping to get a quote from the infamous Brian Kinney on his way to testify. He was quite sure that yesterday's 'Fuck you,' had made pretty good copy and was determined not to give them another sound bite today.

His eyes couldn't focus on anything but the witness stand as he walked through the courtroom, yet he was aware of the fact that everyone was looking at him. He could hear people whispering. After he was sworn in and he'd taken his seat, he saw Justin. Keisha had warned him not to look overly much at Justin during his testimony, to keep his eyes on the jury, so he looked away from the teenager towards the jury box where she stood.

"Please state your full name."

"Brian Andrew Kinney."

"How old are you, Mr. Kinney?"

"Thirty." He could only hope he didn't look it today.

"And what do you do?"

"I'm an account executive in the advertising division of a public relations firm."

"Could you explain to the court what your job consists of?"

"The division I work in handles mostly corporate accounts, either advertising for the company in general or marketing specific products. I supervise a team of advertisers, graphic artists, and designers. We come up with marketing strategies, advertising campaigns. . . sometimes we start from the bottom up, creating an entire corporate identity for a company: logos, letterhead, annual report formats, business cards, everything."

"How long have you been in advertising?"

"Seven years. Eight if you count an internship I had in college."

"Would you consider yourself to be successful in your field?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm in management, I make a pretty good living at what I do, and I've won awards for my work."

"Are you married, Mr. Kinney?"

He smiled despite himself. Some days it felt like it. "No."

"Have you ever been married?"

"No, I'm gay. Always have been."

"Are you currently involved with anyone romantically?"

"Yes."

"Could you tell the court who you're involved with?"

"Justin Taylor."

"Does he live with you?"

"Yes."

"Is Mr. Taylor another advertiser?"

"No, he's a student at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts."

"How old is Mr. Taylor?"

"Eighteen."

"And how long have you been involved with Mr. Taylor?"

"Since May." Revised that. "April really. That's when the prom was. April."

"When did you meet?"

"September of last year."

"And how old was Justin when you met him?"

"Seventeen."

"Did you know how old he was when you first met?"

"No."

"Where did you meet?"

"On Liberty Avenue."

"Could you describe the circumstances of that meeting?"

"I was leaving Babylon and I was just about to get in my car, when I saw him." He remembered Mikey's words at dinner on Saturday at the loft: _"You stopped right in the middle of getting into the Jeep and just stared at Justin, like you had never seen anyone like him before."_

"Where was Justin?"

"He was standing against a street light." He laughed a little. "Like in Casablanca or some other movie."

"Did you approach him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was interested in him."

" What was it about Justin that interested you?"

Brian paused. "I thought he was. . ." Brian's eyes shifted to where Justin sat.

"Mr. Kinney?"

He looked back at the jury the way she'd intended. "I thought he was beautiful."

"Was that all?"

"He looked so beautiful, so pure and innocent." Brian added, "I've never looked like that."

"You don't think you're beautiful?" _There are a lot of people in this courtroom that would disagree._

"Pure and innocent." But how could he have ever been? That choice had been taken away from him at an early age and he'd had to live the best way he could.

"So it was Justin's innocence that attracted you?"

"He was different from the other guys I used to pick up."

"How so?"

"I can't describe it. He seemed. . ." Brian thought, came up with a word. "Authentic. Like what you saw was what you got. So many guys, they put on a disguise when they go out. Pretend to be something they're not so they can get la- - so they can have sex with someone. He just seemed. . . real."

Now that he'd brought it up, she might as well deal with it now. "How many men do you think you used to have sex with in a month, Mr. Kinney?"

"Twenty-five or thirty."

There was a rustle in the courtroom of people trying to get their heads around that figure, which was more than they'd been with in a year, maybe a lifetime.

"Consistently?"

"Sometimes more. Sometimes less."

"Weren't you afraid of contracting AIDS?"

"I was always careful." _Why did people always confuse promiscuity with carelessness?_

"Where did you meet these men?"

"In clubs, bars. . . on the street. . . online. . . in restaurants, at parties. . . wherever."

"And they would come to your place for sex?"

"Not all of them."

"Where did you have sex with these men?"

"In clubs, bars, alleys, my Jeep. Bathrooms, hotel rooms, elevators. . ."

There were a few not-so-discreet giggles from the courtroom. Lindsay tried not to shake her head.

"And these encounters, they were purely sexual in nature?"

"Yes."

"You weren't looking to start a relationship with any of the men you had sex with?"

"I didn't believe in relationships."

"Had you ever been in a relationship prior to meeting Justin?"

"One."

"Could you describe that relationship?"

 _It was a fucking disaster_ , was what he wanted to say. "It was with another student in college. We met our senior year."

And Michael thought it was amazing that Brian could sit there and calmly talk about Cam as if it happened to someone else. That's how far he'd come.

"Where did you go to college?"

"Penn State."

"How long were you and this other student together?"

"A year and a half."

"Why did it end?"

"I found out he was cheating on me." Brian looked away from the jury. Even now it still hurt and he didn't know why, just that it did.

"So you were monogamous during this period?"

"I was. Obviously, he wasn't."

"Do you believe this experience influenced your feelings about relationships?"

He snickered. "I'd be pretty stupid if I didn't."

"How did you feel about relationships after you broke up with this man?"

"That there was no such thing as love. It was all a lie." He pressed his lips together tightly, then added. "And to believe anything else. . . you'd just be fooling yourself."

"And that was the only relationship you'd had with someone other than with Justin?"

"Yes."

"These other twenty-five, thirty men a month, you never saw any of them again?"

"A few. But it was just- - sex." He'd almost said fucking.

"So, the night you met Justin Taylor on Liberty Avenue, you weren't looking to start a relationship?"

"No."

"Did you communicate this to Justin?"

"I thought he understood. I mean, most people aren't out there looking for a mate. They're looking for fifteen minutes, a half hour, a couple hours of fun and nothing more."

"That's what you were looking for?"

"Yes."

"Did you know that Justin was seventeen?"

"No."

"Did you ask him how old he was?"

"Not at first."

"When did you ask him?"

"After we got to my place."

"How old did you think he was?"

"Maybe eighteen, nineteen." A really young-looking nineteen.

"If you had known how old he was, would you have taken him home?"

"Probably."

Keisha applauded him on his honesty but it hadn't won him any fans. She'd have to do damage control. "Were you aware of the fact that sixteen is the age of majority in Pennsylvania?"

"No."

"Did Justin show any hesitation in accompanying you home?"

"No."

"Did he suggest staying in a public place?"

"No."

"So, you took Justin back to your apartment and you had sex?"

"Not right away."

"What happened?"

"We started to have sex and then the phone rang."

"And you stopped?"

"I answered the phone."

Keisha picked up on the subtle distinction and wondered if Mason had. She decided to let it go. "Who was it?"

"It was Melanie."

"Who's Melanie?"

"Lindsay's lover."

"And who's Lindsay?"

"A friend of mine from college."

"And why was Melanie calling you?"

"To tell me Lindsay had had the baby."

"Why would you care?"

"I was the father."

"You fathered a baby with a lesbian?"

"Artificial insemination."

"After finding out about the baby's birth, what did you do?"

"I told Justin to get dressed, that he had to leave because I had to go to the hospital."

"Did Justin leave?"

"No."

"Did you take him with you?"

"Yes."

"Why did you take him with you?"

"He told me he didn't have anywhere to go. That he couldn't go home because he'd told his parents he was staying at a friend's house."

"Why did you care what happened to someone you'd picked up for sex?"

"Because he was just a kid."

"Did you know how old he was by then?"

"I asked him and he told me."

"If Justin had been older, had been your age, would you have taken him with you to the hospital?"

"No."

 _And maybe_ , she thought, _if it had been any other seventeen-year-old other than Justin, you wouldn't have taken him either._ "Did you take Justin in with you to see the baby?"

"Yes."

"Why did you take him inside the hospital to see the baby?"

"It seemed kind of silly to make him wait in the car."

"Mr. Kinney, you've admitted to sleeping with nearly thirty men a month and yet you seemed awfully attached to Justin from the beginning. Why?"

"I don't know why." He was aware that he'd raised his voice and he took a breath. "He seemed harmless. He was just a kid."

"Did you intend to take him back home with you and have sex with him?"

"Yes."

"So you kept him around to ensure that you'd have a sexual partner?"

"I could have picked up someone at the hospital." That guy he'd bumped into in the corridor had seemed mighty interested in him.

Keisha didn't know what to think about his answer. "All right, when you left the hospital and went back home, did Justin go with you?"

"Yes."

"And you had sex?"

"Yes."

"Did Justin tell you he was a virgin?"

"He didn't have to, I could tell."

Out in the gallery, Justin's ears started to burn. Brian was never going to let him forget how ignorant he'd been. As if he, Brian, had been born knowing everything.

"And it didn't bother you that he was twelve years younger than you?"

"It didn't bother him, why should it bother me?"

"Had you ever been with someone who was that much younger than you before you met Justin?"

"I don't think so."

"Don't you know?"

"I didn't make a habit of asking guys how old they were before I f- - had sex with them." He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his slip. Justin's eyes were fixed on him. Shit.

"Did you make a habit of picking up young men?"

"I was young."

"Did you make a habit of picking up men who were significantly younger than you?"

"What do you mean by significantly?"

Keisha swallowed a retort and raised an eyebrow at him. She knew he was touchy about his age. "Teenagers."

"I didn't go cruising the video arcades if that's what you mean." Truthfully, he couldn't stand most teenagers.

"Okay, the next morning, did you take Justin to school?"

"Yes."

"Justin has testified that someone had spray-painted your Jeep; is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What did they spray-paint on it?"

" 'Faggot.' "

"And yet you drove Justin to school in the Jeep?"

"He didn't care."

"How do you know?"

"I asked him and he said he didn't."

"Were there any students around when you arrived at Justin's school?"

"Yes."

"What was their reaction?"

"They looked like they'd just seen Brittany Spears spontaneously combust."

Some people in the gallery laughed as did several of the jurors.

"Could you explain that?"

"Kind of shocked and some of them laughed."

"Did anyone say anything?"

"Yes. Some little a- - some kid asked Justin if he wanted to suck him off."

"What did Justin say?"

"He didn't say anything."

"Did you say anything?"

"I told him I'd kick his tight little virgin ass so hard he wouldn't be able to sit down for a week."

"Did you mean it?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to get out and fight a teenager."

"It was just a threat then?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"The kid went away and Justin got out of the car."

"Did you and he make plans to meet again?"

"No."

"Did he want to make plans?"

"Yes."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd had sex with him. That's what I'd wanted."

"Did you tell him that?"

"I told him he could see me in his dreams." Words that had come back to bite him on the ass. It still smarted, that entire episode with Sean. He supposed it was because it was forever coupled in his mind with his failure to secure that job in New York.

"So you never said to him that it was just sex?"

"Not at that moment."

"But you did tell him that at a later time?"

"Yes."

"And what was his reaction?"

"He started to cry."

"And what did you do?"

He still remembered Justin saying, 'I want you,' and him telling the teen, 'You can't have me. I'm too old- - you're too young for me.' Standing there watching Justin struggling to deal with rejection, with his first broken heart. God, he'd been such a shit but it wouldn't have been fair for him to lead Justin on. And yet, he'd done just that. Given him mixed signals. But that night, he'd been adamant about his decision. "I told him," he looked down briefly, "I told him to go do his homework."

Signaling to Keisha, the judge called a fifteen minute recess.

Wearily, Brian climbed down from the witness stand. He could barely meet Justin's eyes. The teen touched his arm, made him look down at him. "What?"

Brian shook his head. "Nothing."

"It's in the past."

"No," Brian disagreed. "It's right here in front of me. Why did you keep coming back?"

"Because I didn't believe you."

"Why?"

"Because you kept letting me come back."

Brian smiled and muttered, ". . . too fucking smart for me." He noticed Lindsay and looked for Mel. "Melanie with Gus?"

"Nope. Your mom's got him again. He likes her. And she loves him."

"Yeah, the baby she never had." He turned away. Saw Jen. "Hey."

"Hello, Brian."

Em smirked. "I never thought I would see the day when Brian Kinney told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"I'm always honest."

Vic grinned. "Uh-huh."

Michael said, "How many times did you say you didn't love Justin? Or that you didn't care about him, or that he didn't mean anything to you?"

Brian didn't answer. _Well. . ._

The place was packed. Standing room only to see the freak. He looked around and spotted him. Dr. Drew. The therapist motioned with his head and Brian dipped his a little in answer.

Keisha leaned over the rail. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah."

"A moment," she said, indicating that he should accompany her to the witness stand. With her back to the stand and his to the gallery, she said pleasantly, "Remember me telling you not to be a smartass?"

He'd thought a couple of his answers had bordered on smartassness. "Vaguely."

"Well, think about it before you open your mouth when you go back on that stand."

"Fine."

"And don't answer my question with a question."

"Even if you ask me a stupid question?"

She paused before answering. "I box for a hobby. Okay? You want to take me on, we'll put on the gloves and get in the ring." Smiled.

He smiled broadly, "Oo, _Girl Fight,"_ and she had to admire his balls.

"You're not that cute," she told him aware that he was flirting with her.

"Yes, I am."

Pushing past him, aware that this one had ended in a draw, she returned to the defense table and prepared for round two with His Big and Badness. 

 

**10:35 a.m.**

"How long had you known Justin before he moved in with you the first time?"

"About a month."

"And on how many different occasions had you and Justin had sex prior to his moving in with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe eight times."

From the gallery Michael's eyes widened. Justin hadn't lied then that time at Debbie's when he'd said that Brian and he had been together more than once. Brian was the one who'd lied. By omission.

"Other than the man you'd been involved with, had you ever been with any one person that many times?"

"No."

"Did you consider yourself to be in a relationship with Justin?"

"No. We were just- -" He cut that off as she'd probably kill him if he said it.

"What, Mr. Kinney?"

Well, she asked. "Fuck buddies."

That didn't go over well with the jury members who looked as if they'd eaten something that didn't agree with them.

"Meaning?"

"We had sex, we hung out, but it wasn't anything more than that."

"Did Justin feel the same way as you?"

"No. He thought it meant something more."

"Did you tell him that it was just sex?"

"Every opportunity I could."

"And then you let him move in with you?"

"He didn't have anyplace else to go."

"Could you describe the circumstances surrounding his moving in with you?"

"His dad had found out about us and one night we were leaving Woody's and he sucker punched me and started kicking the s-he attacked me and Justin told him he wasn't coming home again. So I let Justin stay at my place."

"Did you ever attempt to get Justin to go home?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I took him to his parents' house and his dad started laying down the law and I could tell Justin was going be miserable there, so I told him he could come back to my place."

"Why did you care what happened to him?"

"He didn't deserve to be treated like that."

"Like what?"

"His dad told him that he didn't want him going to gay bars or seeing me or even talking about being gay."

"Weren't you glad that Justin wasn't going to be pestering you any longer?"

"He didn't pester me."

"But he thought you were in a relationship and you didn't, isn't that correct?"

"Yes."

"I would think you'd be glad to get rid of him, then."

"He wasn't so bad."

"And he stayed at your place approximately a month?"

"Yes."

"Did he sleep on the couch?"

"Only if I was pissed with him." Laughing from the gallery. Brian hadn't tried to make him sleep on the sofa since that first night when Justin had slipped into bed next to him.

"Did you have sex with Justin during this time?"

Brian snickered and there was even more laughter from the gallery despite the judge's previous warnings. "Yes."

"Did you have sex with other men during this time?"

He sobered. "Yes."

"Did you ever have sex in the apartment with another man while Justin was there?"

"Yes."

"While Justin was in the apartment?"

"Yes."

"While he watched?"

"Yes."

"Couldn't you have done it someplace else?"

"Probably."

"Why didn't you?"

"It was my apartment," he said in a huff, aware that his stock on the Asshole Exchange had risen about thirty points.

"Did you ask Justin to leave first?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was trying to make a point. That we weren't a couple. That his living with me was just temporary and it didn't mean anything." And yet it had meant something, even if he hadn't been willing to admit it.

"What occurred between you and this other man while Justin watched?"

"He started to blow me."

"Did Justin stay and watch you have sex?"

"He left."

"Where did he go?"

"He went to Lindsay's house."

"Your son's mother?"

"One of them."

Lindsay smiled. Mel would have been ecstatic to hear him say that.

"Did you go after him?"

"No."

"Was that the only time you had sex with someone else in your apartment, in front of Justin while he lived with you?"

"Yes."

"Why did Justin move out of your place?"

" He forgot to set the code on the alarm and I was robbed. So I kicked him out."

"And you blamed Justin?"

"Hell yes." He glanced at the judge. "Sorry." It was still a sore spot with him. Having to explain to the insurance company that he had, indeed, owned twelve Armani suits and six pairs of Prada shoes among other expensive items.

"Where did Justin go?"

"He ran away to New York City."

"How did he manage to get to New York?"

"He took one of my credit cards and bought a plane ticket."

"You must have been angry."

"I was furious."

"Why didn't you call the police and report it stolen?"

"Because I knew him. I knew he wouldn't go out and spend $300 on a box seat for The Producers. He was just desperate."

"Did you cancel your credit card?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wanted to find out where he was." Added, "And I didn't want him out there alone with no money."

Michael and Em exchanged glances. That was the first time Brian had ever said that and yet they believed him. It was the kind of thing he'd think about and act on and never mention, not caring if anyone knew or not.

"Did you track him down?"

"Yes. He got a hotel room on the card and they notified me."

"How did he get back to Pittsburgh?"

"I went and got him."

"Did Justin come back to live with you in Pittsburgh?"

"No. I found him someplace else to live."

"Where?"

"With someone I knew, Debbie Novotny."

"Why didn't you take him back to his parents' house?"

"He didn't want to go back there."

"Why did you care?"

"It didn't matter to me where he went but if he had a choice and he chose Debbie, what did I care?"

"After Justin moved out, how often did you see him?"

"Four or five times a week." So much for not caring.

"Did you have sex on these occasions?"

"Not all of them." Most of them.

"What did you do on the occasions you didn't have sex?"

"Went dancing, or to Woody's, or had dinner. Just hung out."

"Did you consider Justin to be a friend of yours?"

Brian thought about it, thought about how he'd felt about Justin back then. "Yes."

"So you cared what happened to him?"

"Yes."

"But you still wouldn't consider having a romantic relationship with him?"

"No."

"Did you enjoy being with Justin?"

"Most of the time."

People who had regular dealings with teenagers seemed to agree with him, nodding to themselves.

"Did you have satisfactory sexual relations with Justin?"

"Outstanding actually."

Some of the jurors laughed. God love him.

"Did Justin interact with your other friends?"

"Yes."

"Did he interact with your son?"

"He would baby-sit sometimes or go over with me to see Gus."

Which all sounded well and good but there had been less savory aspects to their relationship. One Mason was going to bring up sure as the sun rose in the east. So she might as well beat him to the punch. Besides, Justin had already prepared them with his testimony.

"Mr. Kinney, were you a recreational drug user?"

"Yes." 'Just Say No' had never seemed to be an option for him.

"What drugs did you take?"

"Ecstasy, Special K, cocaine, poppers, marijuana, uppers, downers. . . Tried heroin once, crystal meth once. LSD."

Ignoring the shocked looks on the jurors' faces, Keisha continued. "Did you ever give any drugs to Justin?"

"Some E once, one sniff of a popper. And one time I shotgunned him."

"Shotgunned?"

"I lit a joint and blew the smoke into his mouth."

"That it?"

"He's really allergic to a lot of drugs, prescription drugs and over the counter stuff, so it didn't make sense to give him anything else."

"How often do you take drugs?"

"I might smoke a joint every now and then."

"Out of that long list?"

"I don't do the hard stuff anymore."

"Did you overdose or develop a health problem?"

"No."

"Then why'd you stop?"

"I realized I couldn't remember the things that were happening to me."

"What kinds of things?"

His voice softened. "I used to wake up next to some guy and not remember anything about the night before."

"Why'd it start to matter to you?"

"Because I was with Justin." He lowered his eyelids. "And I wanted to remember being with him."

"Has your relationship with Justin caused any problems at your job?"

"Yes." Want to see the list?

"What kinds of problems?"

"Mostly comments from coworkers. Due to the negative publicity from the attack."

"What do people mostly comment on?"

"The fact that I'm gay. The fact that my lover is twelve years younger than me. That he was in high school when we met. And I wasn't."

"Do you care?"

"I try not to."

"So you do?"

"It's hard being called a child molester." He looked down, then back up again. "I have a child."

Keisha could tell that a number of the jurors hadn't thought of that, that he might be upset by the implications. "Mr. Kinney, do you love Justin Taylor?"

"Yes. I do."

"After everything that you've told the court this morning, why would anyone believe you?"

Brian looked directly at the jurors as if daring them to doubt his word. "No one has to, except for him. And he believes me."

Keisha paused and Kramer consulted the time. "I think we should break for lunch. The same injunctions apply. Reconvene at one twenty-five."

As Brian passed through the gate, Justin met him and slid his arm around his waist, hugged him. They kissed, irregardless of their surroundings and the continued interest of the spectators in what they were doing.

"I love you," Justin whispered and Brian squeezed him even tighter. 

 

As they had the day before, the gang had lunch in the witness waiting room. Brian had looked around for Drew, to invite the therapist to join them, but the man had disappeared. He hoped Drew would be back when court reconvened. They still hadn't gotten to the prom and he could already feel his self-control slipping. Jesus, listening to all of the shit he'd done to Justin. . . He couldn't imagine what the jury thought of him. Probably that he was the world's biggest asshole. And he had been.

Justin sat next to him. "You're not eating."

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't want you to pass out up there. Someone might try to take advantage of your virtue."

"What virtue?" Brian asked bitterly, knowing Justin meant it as a joke but not feeling much like joking right then.

"Bri- -"

Brian went over and held up in the corner by himself. Covered the lower half of his face. Not going after him, Justin just sat and waited for Brian to return to the table.

He uncovered his face and wrapped his arms around his waist, stayed like that for a while. Then released himself, the moment over, and sat next to Justin again.

The teen ran his fingers through Brian's hair. "Eat something. Please."

So he picked at his food and tried to forget that he still had the prom to cover in the afternoon session of court.

"You okay?" Michael asked and Brian chuckled.

"I know how Sydney Carton felt." At Michael's confused looks, "The guy from A Tale of Two Cities. The one who got his head chopped off." He laughed. "And she's on our side." Meaning Keisha. "Fuck."

"No apologies, remember? No regrets."

"Yeah." A tear ran down his face and he just let it, just let it fall, didn't even try to wipe it away before anyone could see. But it was the only one. He couldn't break down, not now, not today, not when it was so important to keep it together. So he shed one tear and then he ate his sandwich and prepared to go back inside and get back on the witness stand. 

 

**1:25 p.m.**

Quickly establishing why they'd been on Liberty Avenue in the first place that night, Keisha got into the details of Justin's confrontation with Chris Hobbs. "When did you see the defendant?"

"Justin pointed him out to me."

"How far away was Chris Hobbs when Justin pointed him out?"

"Maybe twenty feet or so. It's hard to say. We were standing on the steps and he was down on the sidewalk."

"What did Justin do after he pointed him out to you?"

"He went down to the sidewalk and stood in front of him."

"Did Justin say anything to him?"

"Not at first."

"Did the defendant speak to Justin?"

"He said hey."

"Then what happened?"

"Justin asked him what he was doing on Liberty Avenue and the Hobbs kid said he was checking out the freaks like him. Then Justin told him that on Liberty Avenue, he was the freak." Brian's brow furrowed. "Then the Hobbs kid pushed Justin and said, 'Get out of the way, you faggot.' I got in between them and Hobbs stepped back a little."

"Why did you step between them?"

"I was about to kick his a- -"

"You were going to physically assault the defendant?"

"I thought he was going to hit Justin. I wasn't going to let him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Justin pushed me back and then he took care of it."

"What did Justin do?"

"A crowd of people had gathered around us. Justin told them how he'd given Chris Hobbs a handjob at school and that the Hobbs kid had loved it."

"Did you know about the incident?"

"No."

"How did it make you feel?" she asked.

Brian hesitated before answering. "It made me angry."

"Why?" Keisha could believe he was jealous. He seemed extremely possessive of Justin.

"Because the fastest way to getting your head bashed in is to mess with a homophobic straight guy."

Mason was livid. "Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained. Please disregard the witness' statement."

Angry, Brian pressed his lips closed. What the fuck were they talking about? That Hobbs kid had tried to kill Justin and here they were in court trying to pretend that it hadn't happened. Wanting to explode, he took a deep breath instead and glanced around the courtroom until he found Drew sitting in the back, in the corner. Legs crossed, hands folded over his knees. Radiating serenity. And it seemed as if just his presence was enough to calm Brian.

"What did the defendant do after Justin's revelation?"

"He told Justin that he was fucked and then he left."

"How did you feel about the way Justin handled things?"

"I thought it was a mistake."

"Why?"

"What's the point in me saying it, he'll just object," Brian said indicating Mason.

Judge Kramer got Brian's attention. "Mr. Kinney, answer the question and I'll decide what's objectionable and what's not."

"Fine. I thought it was a mistake because I got a bad feeling about that Hobbs kid. I knew Justin had had some trouble with him and now this. If he was homophobic- -"

"Your Honor, it has not been proven that my client was homophobic."

Keisha stepped in. "Your Honor, the witness did preface his remarks with 'If.' "

"Mr. Kinney, you will refrain from making judgements regarding the defendant's feelings about homosexuals."

"What else does he have to do before someone will admit that he hates faggots?"

"Mr. Kinney- -"

"Well, he hated Justin, that much I do know."

Keisha gave Brian the eye. He was going to get it and get it good.

"Mr. Kinney, this is not a discussion. Do not volunteer information unless you're asked a question. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Objection sustained. Ms. Thomas, continue."

"Again, without passing judgement on the defendant or disparaging his fine, upstanding reputation- -"

Mason was on his feet again. "Your Honor- -"

"I apologize, Your Honor."

"Ms. Thomas, do I need to reprimand both you and your witness?"

"No, Your Honor." She was getting as bad as Brian. What a pair they made.

"If you have further questions, ask them."

Feeling she'd probably covered the Liberty Avenue incident as well as she could from Brian's point of view, she moved on to a different topic. To the reason why they were there in the first place: the prom and everything after. "Let's talk about the prom. Did Justin ask you to go to the prom with him?"

"Yes."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That I wouldn't be caught dead in a room full of fuckin' eighteen-year-olds."

"Mr. Kinney," said Kramer, "do I have to warn you about your language again?"

"It's what I said, Your Honor."

"Proceed, Ms. Thomas."

"Why was the prom different from any other time you'd gone out together?"

"Because the prom's for high school students. Most of the people in the clubs we went to or the bars were in their twenties and thirties." He shrugged. "I'd just turned thirty and the last thing I wanted was to go to a high school prom."

"Did you go to your senior prom?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because proms are for straight kids," he said, echoing Max's sentiments.

"You could have gone with a girl, couldn't you?"

"I didn't want to."

"If you could have taken a guy, would you have gone?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I hated school and all I wanted was to get away from there."

"So you'd told Justin you weren't coming to the prom. Why'd you change your mind?"

He thought about the scarfing episode and Michael's speech about being beautiful forever and he guessed, in retrospect, that it'd helped to convince him to go to the prom. But that wasn't all of it. Not the biggest part of it. "I wanted to go for Justin. I knew it'd make him happy."

"Why'd it matter to you if Justin was happy or not?"

He swallowed. "I- -" He stopped and started over. "I guess. . . I loved him."

"Had you admitted to yourself that you loved him?"

"No."

"When did you realize it?"

"In the parking garage. After the prom."

Good. That was something for the jury to keep in the back of its mind when it heard testimony about the attack: that not only had Brian been scared because of the severity of the attack but because he was afraid of losing the person he'd just realized that he loved. "Okay, so you got dressed and went to the prom?"

"Yes."

"And what did you do once you got there?"

"I looked for Justin. I spotted him with Daphne."

"Did they look surprised to see you?"

"Yes."

"How did you explain your appearance?"

"I told him I was trying to recapture my lost youth."

"What did that mean?"

"It meant going to the prom and being young again and being with him, my lost youth." He smiled.

"Then what did you do?"

"We danced together."

"Do you remember what song was playing?"

" _'Save the Last Dance for Me.'_ " He'd never forget it.

"Did you see the defendant at the prom?"

"Not inside the hotel, no."

And out at the defense table, Christian Hobbs seethed. He'd seen Brian enter the ballroom. Had watched his progress with interest.

"Could you see the faces of the students around you while you danced?"

"Yes."

"Did they look shocked or angry?"

"Some looked shocked, some looked angry. A few were actually smiling." Like that girl who was standing behind Daphne.

"After you finished dancing, what did you do?"

"I kissed Justin."

"Right in front of everyone?"

"Yes. And then Justin walked me to the Jeep."

"Were you leaving together?"

"No." As always the thought of their parting at that moment caused him to pause. No matter how many times he ran the scene through in his head, Justin was never going to get into the Jeep with him and drive away. "Justin was going to see Daphne home first and then meet me at the loft later."

"As you walked to the Jeep together, did you talk about what had just happened?"

"Yes."

"What did you say to one another?"

"Justin said that it had been the best night of his life. And I said, 'Even if it was ridiculously romantic.' "

"What did you mean by that?"

"That it was like something out of a movie. Where the hero comes in and sweeps the heroine off her feet and dances with her while everyone looks at them. It was a f- - an MGM musical."

"Then what happened?"

"We kissed and I told him, 'Later.' And he said, 'Later,' and he started to walk away." Brian fell silent. Closed his eyes. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, didn't want to go forward with this. Already he could feel his heart pounding, feel the tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

"What did you do after he started walking away?"

"I got in the Jeep. And I watched him in the side mirror." Brian smiled. "He looked so happy. So. . ." It was difficult speaking. "So bright and beautiful."

"How long was it before you saw the defendant?"

"A few seconds. He came up behind Justin carrying a baseball bat."

Keisha paused and reached beneath her table and removed a wooden baseball from a plastic mail container. She carried the bat to the defense table and showed it to Mason. Then she addressed the court. "Your Honor, I have a baseball bat marked Plaintiff's "1", which I have shown to the counsel for the defense. May I approach the witness?"

"You may."

Keisha waited until the Clerk had moved towards the witness stand as well, since the spoke in low tones, to keep their proceedings confidential. She had to establish the identity of the item before it could be received into evidence. In theory, the jury wasn't supposed to see the object until foundation had been established but with something like a baseball bat, it seemed a little silly to even pretend that they couldn't see it. Keisha held the bat towards Brian. He made no move to take it. "Mr. Kinney, I'm handing you plaintiff's "1" and ask if you recognize it?"

"Yes."

"Is this the kind of baseball bat the defendant used?"

Brian looked at it closely. He could see a smear on the end. His stomach rolled. "Yes."

"Would you speak up, please, so that the Clerk can hear you?" Kramer asked.

"Yes."

Keisha said, "May plaintiff's 1 be received in evidence?"

Kramer gave his consent and Keisha handed the bat briefly to the Clerk, who recorded the number and information about the exhibit in the court records, then took it back and carried it to Brian. "Mr. Kinney, if you please, could you show the court how the defendant was holding the bat as he approached Justin?" She paused, waiting for Mason to object or for Kramer to call a halt to the proceedings. When neither happened, she said to Brian, "Mr. Kinney, if you please?"

Brian walked down to where she stood in front of the jury box. Took the bat from her. Held it in his left hand, down by his leg, the tip slightly raised, about a foot off the ground. "He was holding it like this."

Aware that they needed a description in the transcript, Keisha asked, "In his left hand?"

"Yes."

"Down by his leg?"

"Yes."

"And the end was about a foot off the ground?"

"Yes."

"And you saw this in your side mirror?"

"Yes."

"What did you do then?"

I paused, he said to himself, and he had. For a second, frozen by the implications of what he was seeing. And that second, that pause would haunt him for the rest of his life. "I got out of the Jeep and called to Justin. He turned and the defendant hit him." His fingers tightened on the bat.

"How far away were you from the defendant and Mr. Taylor?"

"I don't know. Forty, fifty feet."

"And did you see the defendant swing the bat?"

"Yes."

"Could you demonstrate what the defendant did?"

Brian raised the bat in his left hand and then positioned it over his right shoulder the way a left-handed batter would do, and he slowly mimed striking Justin. He could feel his pulse racing.

"So the defendant raised the bat in his left hand and then held it over his right shoulder and swung?"

"Yes." She held out her hand for the bat and he gave it to her. "You can return to the stand."

He did so gratefully while she gave the bat to the Clerk. Putting himself in Chris Hobbs' shoes, even for a moment, made him feel sick and his throat was tight and he just wanted to lay his head down and wait for Justin to come and stroke his hair, the way he did when Brian wasn't feeling well. But Keisha continued to question him and he had to go on. He couldn't give up, not yet.

"How many times did the defendant hit Justin?"

"Just once."

"Did he swing the bat hard?"

"Objection."

"Sustained."

"Did he swing the bat fast or slowly?"

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained."

"Did you hear the bat strike Justin?"

"Yes. I heard it." He faltered. "I heard the bat," shallow breath, "hit Justin in the head." He closed his eyes. "It was so loud."

Kramer leaned towards him. "Mr. Kinney, would you like some water?"

Brian opened his eyes and shook his head. "No, Your Honor."

"You may continue, Ms. Thomas."

"After the defendant struck Justin, what happened?"

"Justin fell and Chris Hobbs stood over him with the bat in his hand."

"Was it raised?"

"No. He was holding it like before. In his left hand, with the end hanging down towards the ground."

"After Justin fell, what did you do?"

"I ran towards them and I pushed Chris Hobbs down." It had seemed to take forever for him to reach them and the entire time he'd been terrified that Hobbs would hit Justin again while he lay helpless on the ground.

"Why?"

"To keep that little asshole from finishing Justin off."

"Objection!"

"How the fuck can you defend that fucking psychopath! He tried to kill Justin!"

The judge banged his gavel. "Ms. Thomas, please instruct your witness to watch his language and remind him that this is a court of law. Jury, please disregard Mr. Kinney's last statement. Objection sustained."

Keisha neared Brian. "Brian- -"

He looked at her with anguish in his eyes. The tears had already welled up and were spilling over his cheeks. He sniffled.

In the gallery, Justin had tensed up, moved forward. Lindsay laid her hand on his arm and he sat back in his seat.

"You okay?"

He nodded once and thumbed at the tears.

Stepping back from the witness stand, she resumed her position near the jury. "May I continue, Your Honor?"

"You may."

"You testified that you pushed Chris Hobbs down; did he drop the bat he was holding?"

"Yes."

"Did he get up again?"

"He got up and ran. I picked up the bat and followed him."

"Why?"

"I thought he might be trying to get away. I wanted to stop him."

"Did you stop him from running?"

"I hit him in the leg, in the knee, I think."

"How many times did you hit him?"

"Once. I just wanted to stop him."

"And then what did you do?"

"I dropped the bat and I went back to check on Justin." And he closed his eyes again and sniffled but the tears flowed down his cheeks and he couldn't stop them.

Again Kramer leaned towards him. "Mr. Kinney, do you need to take a break?"

"No, Your Honor." He just wanted to get this over with.

Keisha continued. "What did you see when you returned to Justin?"

Brian's eyes dropped. As much as he tried, he couldn't look at their faces as he spoke. The faces of strangers who didn't have any idea what it was like to watch your whole life bleed away in front of your eyes, to feel like you'd lost everything. "He was lying on the ground. He wasn't moving. I thought- - there was so much blood. I. . . I was afraid he was dead." He looked down and swallowed a sob. "There was so much blood. I took the scarf and I, I pressed it over his head. To try to stop the bleeding."

Keisha removed another item from the plastic mail container. It was in a ziploc bag. She carried it to Mason and then asked if she could approach the witness. "Mr. Kinney, I'm handing you plaintiff's 2 and ask if you recognize it?"

"Yes." He didn't take it, couldn't take it. The silk cloth was covered in Justin's blood and just seeing it made him feel like he was going blind.

"Could you tell me what it is?"

"The scarf I bought for my birthday."

"Your Honor, may plaintiff's 2 be received into evidence?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Again she gave it briefly to the Clerk and then took it back. "Mr. Kinney, could you tell the court what this item is?"

He was barely keeping it together. The bat had been bad but this was worse. "It's the scarf I bought for my birthday. The one I gave to Justin at the prom."

Keisha passed the scarf to the jury and each person took it and looked at it for a moment before handing it to the next person. When the last person had finished with it, she took the ziploc bag back and addressed Brian once more.

"And this was the scarf you used to press over Justin's forehead?

"Yes."

She could see that he was close to the breaking point. "Could you show us what you did with the scarf?" she asked and she approached him and held the scarf towards him.

He shook his head. "No." He moved away from her and lost it. "No." The guilt and fear he'd felt when he'd knelt next to Justin washed over him and he couldn't get his head above it, felt like he was drowning. "I shouldn't have gone after him."

"After who, Brian?"

"Chris Hobbs. I should have let him go." He sobbed. "I should have stayed with Justin. I should have stayed with him." Took a deep breath to try and clamp down on the surging grief and couldn't. "I should have gone in the first place. When he asked me. I should have gone."

Seated next to Lindsay, Jennifer remembered how she'd screamed at him in the hospital, _"You left him alone! Why did you leave him? Why weren't you with him! If you had been with him, this wouldn't have happened! Why did you leave him? Why?"_

"He wouldn't have been alone. He wouldn't have gotten hurt," he said and he began to cry heedless of the people watching.

The judge said, "Mr. Kinney- -" but his next words were cut off by Justin shouting.

"Brian!" The teenager stood and pushed past the people in his row, trying to get to his lover. Despite the attempts of Michael and the others to keep him back, he managed to break free of them and head for the well of the court.

Keisha turned just as he passed through the gate. _Oh hell._

"Mr. Taylor, take your seat!" thundered Kramer but Justin ignored him.

"Justin, go back to your seat," Keisha warned.

"You leave him alone," he told her tightly and he went to Brian and the man laid his head against the teen's abdomen and wept. "It's okay," he said as he stroked Brian's hair.

"I'm sorry," Brian murmured through the tears.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for."

By then pandemonium had broken out in the courtroom. The press was busy falling all over one another trying to figure out exactly what had happened even though they'd all watched it unfold. Members of the jury looked stricken, unwilling witnesses as the teen comforted the older man who continued to weep against his lover's jacket. The spectators in the gallery too looked on in amazement as the lovers ignored the chaos around them.

"Order," Kramer commanded, striking his gavel several times. "Mr. Taylor- -"

"No," Justin said before the judge could even finish. "I'm not leaving him."

Brian raised his head. "Baby. . ." and Justin's eyes lost their fierce look, anger replaced with concern. He stroked Brian's face, oblivious to anyone else.

"We'll take a short fifteen minute recess and, Ms. Thomas, when we return I want you to have complete control over your witnesses, understand?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

As soon as the recess was called, Drew left his seat and made his way towards the witness stand. Brian saw him and swallowed. Christ, he'd made a fuckin' mess of things.

Sensing movement behind her, Keisha turned, ready to ream out whoever it was. Drew, anticipating her response said, "I'm Dr. Drew Becker. Brian's therapist."

"Do something with him and do it now. With both of them." She turned away and tried to head off Lindsay and Michael and Emmett and Vic and Jen before they rushed the well of the court too.

Drew approached the witness stand where Justin clutched Brian protectively, unwilling to relinquish his hold. "Justin," the therapist said gently. "No one's going to hurt him."

And Justin looked at the psychiatrist and gradually calmed down, relaxed his hold on Brian.

"Can I?" Drew began, indicating the stairs. Justin nodded. Climbing the steps to the stand, Drew leaned against the railing and said nothing.

Finally Brian spoke. "I tried."

"I know. I know it was hard."

Brian could see in his mind Justin running towards him, saying something to the Assistant District Attorney first. "Keisha must be pissed."

Glancing around at the woman who was radiating a white hot corona of anger with about a ten-foot radius, Drew nodded. "Pissed doesn't begin to cover it."

"I just- - it was like being there again." He wiped his eyes. "I should have gone."

"Shh," said Justin. "It's not your fault." He looked over at the defense table where Hobbs and Mason sat. "It's that asshole's fault. I hate him."

Drew said, "I know that you have every reason to hate him, but do you think that's what you should be concentrating your energies on right now?"

Justin glared at Drew, then said of Hobbs, "Fuck him. He's not important."

"What is important?"

"Me and Brian," he replied, and the anger left him, evaporated like morning dew, leaving just the love, solid, like the earth beneath his feet.

Taking a seat and waiting until Drew talked Justin into leaving Brian, Keisha smiled inside. On the outside, she continued to rage. But on the inside, she was pleased. The jury had seen, first-hand, how their relationship worked. How Brian had kept it together until he talked about the bashing, the fear and anguish in his voice, in his face; how Justin had gone to him, heedless of everything, and comforted him, protected him, the same way Brian had protected him in that parking garage. She couldn't have planned it better. Even she been surprised by the depth of Brian's pain and the ferocity of Justin's defense. No one watching them could continue to believe that Brian was just using Justin and that Justin had been corrupted by him. She had seen that on the jurors' faces, the change in attitude that had come over them in just a few moments. 

 

**3:40 p.m.**

Everyone had returned to their seats and Brian had taken the stand once more.

Judge Kramer asked, "Are you ready to begin again, Mr. Kinney?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Ms. Thomas."

"Thank you, Your Honor." She took up her customary position. "After you had pressed your scarf to Justin's forehead to stop the bleeding, what did you do?"

"I called 911 on my cellphone and told them where we were and what had happened."

"Did they give you any instructions?"

"They told me to keep him still, not to move him. And to keep pressure on the wound."

"Did you follow their instructions?"

"Yes. I knelt over him and I didn't move him. And I kept the scarf pressed against his forehead."

"Were you and Justin and the defendant the only people in the parking garage at that time?"

"No. People had begun to come out of the hotel. They were standing around looking at us."

"Did you see Ms. Chanders?"

"Yes."

"Did she come near you or Justin?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I told everyone to stay back. I didn't want anyone near him. Not until the paramedics came."

"Why not?"

"I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Everything. Everyone. It didn't make any sense but I. . . I couldn't risk losing him."

"Did you see the defendant?"

"Yes. He was still lying on the ground. Holding his knee. There were some people standing around him too."

"How long was it before the police and the paramedics arrived?"

"A few minutes. Less than ten minutes."

Again, Keisha removed three items from her container and showed them to Mason before carrying the items to Brian and asking him to identify them for foundation. Then, after he'd done so, she had the Clerk enter them into evidence as plaintiff 3, 4, and 5. "Please tell the court what these are, Mr. Kinney."

"Pictures of Justin in the parking garage."

"When were they taken?"

"Just before the paramedics arrived."

Carrying the pictures to the jury, she passed them around. Several people quickly glanced at them, not wanting to linger on the images of Justin lying in a pool of his own blood.

"After the paramedics arrived, what happened?"

"They wrapped," and he mimed this, "bandages around his head and put him in the ambulance to take him to the hospital."

"Did you go with them?"

"I rode in the back with Justin."

"What did you do while you were in the back with Justin?"

"I talked to him."

"Was he conscious?"

"No. But I talked to him anyway."

"What did you tell him, Mr. Kinney?"

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Overruled."

"I told him not to be afraid." A tear slid down his cheek. "I told him I was there with him and that he didn't have to be afraid. That I would protect him." He sniffled. "Better than I had."

"What else did you do?"

"I called my friend Mikey on the cellphone. I didn't have Jennifer's number."

"Who's Jennifer?"

"Justin's mom. I didn't have her number but I knew Deb would have it."

"Debbie Novotny."

"She's Michael's mom."

"What happened when you arrived at the hospital?"

"They took Justin in the back and they told me to wait in the waiting room but it was noisy in there so they let me wait down the hall. Michael came and found me when he got there and then we went into the waiting room in case Justin's mom came."

"Did she come soon?"

"Yes. She and Debbie. They'd been together."

"Did you see the defendant at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Could you describe the encounter?"

"He was with his parents and the cops. I saw him and I started towards him and my friends held me back."

"What would you have done to him?"

"I don't know. I just moved, I wasn't thinking."

"Then what happened?"

"Then he started yelling."

"What did he yell?"

"He said, 'I hope he fuckin' dies. Fuckin' faggot.' "

"And what did you say to him?"

"I told him that he better pray that Justin lived," said Brian in a flat, emotionless voice, "because if he didn't, I would find him and kill him."

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Yes." His eyes were hard as agates and Justin shuddered. Brian had come so close to being lost for good.

"How long were you at the hospital?"

"Maybe four and a half hours. I stayed until Justin's mom came out and said that he had a skull fracture and that there was some swelling of the brain. She said he was in intensive care but that they weren't going to do surgery yet. That they were going to watch him."

"Were you able to see Justin that night?"

"Yes. Jennifer let me go in and sit with him for a while."

"Why did she do that?"

"Because I told her that I loved him." He remembered her yelling at him, at first. "You stay away from me. And you stay away from my son. He's no good to you, now. You can't fuck him! Why are you even here?" And then she'd come and found him and asked him if he loved her son and he'd told her that he did, that he loved Justin.

"How long did you sit with him?"

"Not long. A couple minutes. I had to go downtown to make a statement about the attack."

"Did you talk to Justin while you sat with him?"

"Yes."

"What did you say to him?"

Mason knew better than to object this time but he glowered, as did his client.

Brian wiped his eyes. "I told him that I was sorry. And that I didn't want him to leave me because I didn't think I could go on without him. And then I kissed him and I asked him to wake up. But he didn't. So I left."

Aware of the danger in asking him, she did so anyway. "What were you sorry about, Brian?"

"That he'd gotten hurt. That I hadn't protected him. That I had let this happen to him."

"But how could you have prevented it?"

"I don't know. I just should have."

"Where did you go after you left the hospital?"

"I went downtown and gave my statement to the police and then I went home. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I slept for a couple of hours and the next morning Michael called and said Justin had woken up and was asking for me. So I went back to the hospital."

"How did Justin look?"

"Like shit. Sorry," he added. "But I thought he'd never looked more beautiful."

"Why, Mr. Kinney?"

"Because he was alive."

As she had Justin, Keisha asked, "How did the attack change your life, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian said nothing for a while and just as Kramer was about to instruct him to answer the question, he spoke. "It made me realize that I didn't want to go on without Justin. I know I don't deserve him. Someone as good and kind as he is. I don't. But he loves me. I'll never really understand why. I just know that he does." Tears rolled down his cheeks but he let them fall, didn't attempt to wipe them away. "And I never want to be without him."

Keisha walked towards the prosecution's table. "No more questions, Your Honor."

"I think," Kramer began, "in light of the lengthiness of the witness' testimony, we'll wait until tomorrow to begin cross-examination. Court will reconvene at nine a.m. sharp." 

 

It had taken all of Justin's persuasive powers to convince everyone not to come back to the loft with them and he understood why they'd wanted to, he just didn't think Brian was up to it, to an apartment full of people, no matter how concerned and well-meaning. Ever since arriving back home, Brian had said very little. He changed his clothes and went into the bathroom for a few minutes. Afterwards, he curled up on the bed and just lay there quietly.

Justin let him be, busied himself with dinner. They'd gotten Deb to pick up a few things from the supermarket. Just the bare essentials: coffee, bottled water, pasta, juice, bagels. . . Although he feared Brian wouldn't eat, he hoped he'd be able to convince him to have a little something, just to keep up his strength. Every now and then he peeped in on his lover, half-hoping to see him reading or smoking, something, anything other than what he was doing, which was nothing. But maybe that's what he needed.

Finally the pasta was done and Justin called Brian to dinner. Got no answer. He went to the doorway of their bedroom. "Brian?"

Without turning over to face Justin, Brian said, "I'm not hungry."

"I want you to eat." At the risk of bringing up painful memories and aware that Brian was probably thinking about what had happened in court anyway, Justin said, "You didn't eat much breakfast and you only picked at the sandwich Michael brought you. You have to eat. Please." He came forward and sat at the foot of the bed. He didn't touch Brian. "For me."

"I'm not a fucking child," Brian said angrily, sitting up in bed suddenly.

"Then stop acting like one," replied Justin. "Fine. Don't eat. Sit in here and pout for all I care," he said before stomping off.

Brian heard him rattling around in the kitchen, getting out plates and utensils. He imagined him serving himself a portion of pasta and pouring a glass of white wine, then sitting at the table alone. And as much as he wanted to join Justin, he couldn't. He felt like someone had split him open and taken out all of his insides. Hollow, empty. Drawing his knees up, he wrapped his arms about them, and laid his head against them. Where was he going to find the strength to go back to that courtroom? He was so tired. All of his life he'd had to do what needed to be done, no matter what. Some kid picked on Mikey at school? He took care of it. His old man kicked the shit out of him right before a big test? He popped a few pills and stayed up late studying and then went in and aced the exam. Teacher raped him? He cleaned himself up and put it out of his mind and went on. That was what he was all about: surviving. And more than that: triumphing. Only now he was so fucking tired, stretched so thin, so. . . He closed his eyes. Felt tears slip from beneath his lids. Felt the bed shift ever so slightly as Justin sat next to him.

"Tell me."

He lifted his head and whispered, "I'm so tired."

And Justin drew his head upon his chest and ran his fingers through his hair. "Then you rest," he said, tears blurring his sight. "You rest and I'll take care of you. I promise." 

 

Brian awoke and the first thing he saw, or things, were Justin's blue eyes watching him. The teen sat cross-legged drawing in his sketch pad. "How long have I been asleep?"

"An hour. Maybe a little more." He put aside his work. "Dinner?"

"I'm starving."

So, as they usually did when Justin cooked, Brian set the table while Justin dished up the pasta (popping it in the microwave to heat it first) and stirred the sauce over a low flame. Then they sat next to one another and ate, finishing off half a bottle of wine between them. Talked about their trip and, after they cleaned up, went online and tried to decide where they would go first and where they would go last and in what order they would see all the other cities in between. Finally, after much discussion and debate, they decided to add a city, Vienna, because Justin said it was very romantic and Brian said he'd always wanted to go there after seeing _The Third Man._ So now they were going to London, Vienna, Barcelona, Athens, Rome, Florence, Venice, and Paris. They decided to start in London; go down to Barcelona; up to Vienna; over to Athens; then back to Italy for a nine-day, three-city tour; and finally wind up in Paris for a week before heading back.

"We won't want to come back," Justin said and Brian agreed. Right now he'd rather be anyplace else other than Pittsburgh. And no matter how much he hoped, it was where he was and nothing could change that.

Around nine thirty Daphne called to let Justin know she'd gotten in okay and would be in court tomorrow. Justin didn't know whether to be happy or sad. He hated to see Daphne hurt almost as much as he hated to see Brian hurt. If he was more concerned about the ad exec than the coed, it was only because Daphne was by nature cheerful whereas life had taught Brian how not to be. Silently, as he watched Brian turn out the bedside lamp, Justin resolved to do his best to make him happy and to keep him that way for as long as they were together. 

 

**Friday, November 16th**

**8:50 a.m.**

While Justin held a brief reunion with Daphne before court began, Brian had an impromptu session with Drew, who'd shown up again for his second day of testimony. "Thanks," he said, aware of the patients Drew wasn't seeing while he was in court.

"No problem. After yesterday I figured I'd better come in case you needed an emergency foot from mouth removal."

Glancing at Keisha, Brian said, "Maybe a foot from ass removal." She'd taken him aside this morning and read him the riot act. Of course, after some of the things she'd done yesterday, she couldn't chastise him too much but she did get in a few choice invectives that Brian was sure she'd been saving up just for him.

"She's something else."

Distractedly, Brian said, "Yeah."

"Something on your mind?"

"I just," he began, "I just want this to be over." _Before I lose my fucking mind._

 

Having taken his seat, Brian studied the defense attorney while the man made a show of consulting his notes. He'd dealt with people like that before. Fuck, he was like that. Had to be in control of everything, had to make a big production out of the merest task. Guess that's why he was in advertising. Looking at Mason shuffle his papers, Brian thought, _I know you._

Aware that the witness was checking him out, Mason smiled to himself. Cocksure bastard, that one. Used to the whole world kowtowing to him because he was good-looking, charming, smart. . . Mason intended to show him that not everyone had been taken in by his charm, his good looks, his smartass attitude masquerading as intelligence. They'd all seen him crumble yesterday and Raymond intended that today they'd see him completely fall apart and this time there'd be no sympathy for him because Mason resolved to show him for what he was: a player, a consummate actor, a phony.

Straightening up, Mason stood in the area in front of the two tables, as he'd done to cross-examine all of the prosecution's witnesses. "Twenty-five to thirty sexual partners a month. That's what? Three hundred, three hundred and sixty different men in a year's time?"

"I'm impressed. I have to use my fingers and toes."

The gallery erupted in laughter. Mason's eyes narrowed to slits.

From the prosecution's table Keisha smiled tightly. She had a bad feeling about Mason's intentions.

"How do you keep track of them? To make sure you don't do the same guy twice?"

"I have a good memory for faces. Among other things." His eyes drifted down towards Mason's crotch. This time there were a few snickers from the gallery.

"So," Mason began, "I'm sure you remember your first time. Don't you, Mr. Kinney?"

"Objection, Your Honor, I fail to see how Mr. Kinney's first sexual experience has any bearing on this case." But she knew she'd be overruled and she didn't particularly care. How much damage could one more encounter cause?

"Overruled. I'll allow the question."

Looking at Brian she was shocked to see an undecipherable look on Brian's face. She glanced around at Justin and he had a similar look on his face. Jesus.

"Mr. Kinney, do you remember your first sexual experience?"

In a low voice, "Yes."

"How old were you?"

Although he was looking down at the railing in front of him, he wasn't seeing it. He was seeing

Light blinding him.

Drew sat forward in his seat, afraid of what might happen.

"Mr. Kinney, you will answer the question," instructed the judge.

"Fourteen," he said and a murmur went through the courtroom.

"Fourteen," repeated Mason. "And how old was your partner?"

Partner, that was one way to describe him. Not the way he'd describe him. "I'm not sure. His late twenties."

The murmur increased in volume. The judge rapped his gavel. "Order or I'll clear this courtroom."

"Where did you meet this man?"

Brian swallowed. "My school. He was a teacher at my school."

Paydirt. "What happened between you and this teacher?"

And Keisha wondered that Mason didn't realize he was treading on dangerous ground. Just from observing Brian, she knew this had been no ordinary encounter.

"He raped me." Brian raised his head and his eyes fixed on Mason's face. "Is that what you wanted to hear? He raped me. A fourteen year-old-student at the school where he taught, where he was supposed to be. . ." He smiled. "Molding young minds."

Silence had descended upon the courtroom. No one said anything. Mason looked stunned. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Brian was telling the truth. He was as pale as a ghost. And yet his eyes were crystal clear, unwavering in their focus.

Attempting to regain control of the cross, Mason said, "You've testified that you've taken recreational drugs. When did you begin to take drugs?"

"Does alcohol count?"

"Yes," replied Mason and Keisha felt that he'd made another mistake.

"When I was fourteen."

Despite the possibility that Brian would garner more sympathy from the rape, Mason asked, "Why did you begin drinking?"

Brian glanced at Mikey. "My father was a drunk. And sometimes when he got drunk, he'd come home and hit my mom. Sometimes he'd come home and kick the sh- - and. . . " he paused, "and beat up on me. I started drinking the day after he came home and hit me so hard I blacked out." Shit, Joanie was going to have a fit. Now, he'd finally done it, all their dirty laundry out in the open. She'd never forgive him. Not as long as she lived.

"Fourteen wasn't a particularly good age for you, was it, Mr. Kinney?"

"Or fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen." He added, "But I'm still alive. No one hit me in the head with a baseball bat."

"Your Honor," Mason said, "could you please ask the witness to answer the question without editorializing?"

"Mr. Kinney, please restrict yourself to answering the question, nothing more."

Waiting for the judge to further admonish him, Keisha was surprised to see Kramer looking at Mason with something akin to disgust in his eyes. And she wondered if maybe he weren't coming around a little. She'd see.

"After your first sexual experience, did you begin having sex on a regular basis?"

"As regular as you can get it at fourteen."

"And how often would that have been?"

"Two or three times a month. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. It just depended."

"Did you have sex with boys your own age?"

"Not really."

"How old were your partners, in general?"

"Their early twenties."

"How did you meet these men at age fourteen?"

"There were places you could go."

"What kind of places?"

"Certain bars, clubs, alleys, parks."

"And you would go to these places and have sex with strangers?"

"Yes."

"How many partners would you say you'd had before you turned eighteen?"

Brian shook his head. "I don't know. A couple hundred, I guess."

"Have you ever been paid for sex, Mr. Kinney?"

Keisha stood, angry almost beyond words. "Your Honor, I have to object to this entire line of questions. Mr. Kinney is not on trial here."

"Your Honor, it is the defense's assertion that Mr. Kinney has exerted an undue influence upon Mr. Taylor and that Mr. Taylor, under his influence, has continually engaged in confrontations with my client to the point where my client was pushed to the brink by Mr. Taylor's behavior. It's important to know what kind of man Mr. Kinney is, morally speaking, in order to understand the kind of influence he had over Mr. Taylor."

"Objection overruled." Keisha sat. "I'll allow the questions but, Mr. Mason, let me assure you that I won't tolerate any questioning purely for shock value. Mr. Kinney, please answer the question."

Brian tried not to look at Justin but he couldn't help it, he caught the teen's eye and he wanted to hide from that clear gaze, from those beautiful blue eyes that wanted nothing more than to believe in him. "Yes." Justin's eyes never wavered but they looked. . . so sad.

"How old were you the first time?"

"Eighteen."

"Why did you take the money?"

"I had just started college and I needed the money to buy some new clothes."

"Didn't your parents buy you clothes?"

"I wanted a really expensive leather jacket and I knew they wouldn't buy it for me."

"Why didn't you work for it?" Mason added quickly, "I'm sorry, I guess you did."

"Objection, Your Honor." Keisha wanted to go up and kick Mason's ass.

"I apologize, Your Honor, I guess unless you pay taxes on your earnings, it's not considered a job."

"Mr. Mason, I am not amused. Get on with your questioning and get to the point quickly."

"And when was the last time you took money for sex?"

"Right after my junior year in college."

"Why did you take the money?"

"I wanted to go to New York for the weekend." Back then it had seemed like a harmless thing but now, now he could see Justin's face and it looked like he'd been slapped about half a dozen times.

Buoyed by the judge's ruling and Brian's revelations, Mason confidently went on to the next set of questions.

"You've testified that you'd had a relationship with another student your senior year in college. How did you and this student meet?"

"We had a class together."

"And he was your age?"

"Yes."

"After college, did you move in together?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"We thought it'd be better if we didn't."

"Better how?"

"My parents had lived together for over twenty-five years by that point and it hadn't seemed to do them any good. We figured we'd drive each other crazy if we lived together."

"You didn't do it in order to more easily sleep with other men?"

"Objection, Your Honor. The witness has already testified that he was monogamous during this period."

"Sustained."

"When you found out that your lover had been cheating on you, did you go out and have sex with other men?"

"No."

"Why not?"

 _Mistake_ , thought Keisha. _You haven't paid any attention to him, have you?_

"Because I loved him."

"You've said you loved Mr. Taylor and yet you had sex with a man right in front of him."

"We weren't involved then."

"What about now?"

"Objection, Your Honor, the witness' relationship with Mr. Taylor after the prom has absolutely no bearing on this case."

"Sustained. And I think this is a good place for us to take a short fifteen minute break."

Even after the judge recessed the court, Brian remained seated. Keisha approached him. "I'm sorry."

He grimaced. " 'sokay."

"No, it isn't." She turned just as Justin came up behind her. "How you doing?"

Justin looked at Brian. "It depends."

"I'm fine."

Smiling, Justin said, "Just imagine the two of us strolling along the Champs Elysses."

Brian returned his smile, albeit a bit grimly. "Yeah. It'll be fabulous." Despite himself, he sniffled. Then laughed bitterly. "I won't have any secrets left, will I?"

"Brian- -"

"I didn't have anyone. Except Mikey. Two fuckin' kids, neither one of us knew what we were doing. There weren't any sitcoms or TV dramas telling us how to live. We just lived. The best way we knew how." He shook his head. "They pretend like you don't exist, and then they punish you for trying to make it on your own."

Out in the gallery, the guys were trying to make sense of what had been revealed. Vic hadn't come today but Michael, Em, and Ted had, along with Lindz and Mel. Jennifer had stayed home as well. Lindsay questioned Michael. "Did you know about the rape?"

"I found out this year. So did he."

Em looked confused. "I don't understand."

"He didn't remember what had happened. He had this version of the truth in his head, and it wasn't. He'd blocked it out."

Ted asked the other question they'd been dying to ask. "Did you know about him taking money for sex?"

"No." Michael frowned. "I can't believe it. I just- - For a leather jacket and a weekend trip to New York."

"And who knows what else," Mel added.

But Em said, "What's the difference between what he did and having some guy you're seeing give you presents?"

"The difference," said Michael who was still driving the Miata David had leased for him, "is that you're in a relationship. You're not fucking for money."

"And that makes it better? Because you're supposedly exchanging love for stuff?"

"It isn't an exchange."

"Matter of interpretation," Em said. 

 

Standing in front of the witness stand, Keisha said to Brian, "Anymore potentially explosive little secrets you want to tell me about?"

Brian and Justin didn't dare look at one another. But they both were thinking the same thing: Kip. But Kip wasn't on the prosecution's list of witnesses. And Mason hadn't brought him up during Justin's cross, so their secret was safe. There was no way anyone was going to bring up Kip. So Brian said, "No."

Keisha breathed easier. "Then, this shouldn't take long. There's no place for him to go."

And Brian glared at her. "His arm has been up my ass further than my proctologist's. How much further does he have to go?" 

 

"Mr. Kinney, the morning you arrived at the St. James' Academy, and Kevin Richards asked Justin if he wanted to 'suck him off,' " here Mason frowned as if the words were distasteful to him, "did you get out of the car as you responded to him?"

"Yes." But he hadn't approached the kid. He'd stood in the doorway of the Jeep and talked to Justin.

"Did you attend the protest rally Justin organized in support of the Gay Straight Student Alliance?"

"No." Justin hadn't asked him to.

"Did you attend any school functions with Justin outside of the prom?"

"No."

"During the month that he lived with you prior to the prom, were you in communication with his school?"

"No. He just lived with me, he still had parents."

"Just answer the question, Mr. Kinney. Yes or no."

Brian sat back in his chair and gave Mason a steely look. Waited for the man's next question.

"When did you first meet my client?"

"We've never been formally introduced."

Titters from the gallery and the jury box.

"Was the incident on Liberty Avenue the first time you'd seen Christian Hobbs or interacted with him?"

"Yes."

"And you'd never witnessed any other altercations between Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Taylor?"

"No."

"You'd never been contacted by the school regarding any problems your lover might have had with Mr. Hobbs?"

"No."

"Had Mr. Taylor's parents informed you of any problems he might have had with my client?"

"No."

"So, the only way you knew anything about Christian Hobbs was through your lover?"

"Yes."

"Did it ever occur to you that Justin might be lying?"

"No."

"Because you were having sex with him?"

"Because he's never lied to me."

"About anything?"

"That I know of."

"Not even a tiny lie? Like telling you your outfit is fine when it's not?"

"But it always is." Brian held out his hands slightly, as if modeling his outfit from his chair. Again a few people giggled.

"And other than the prom, that was the only occasion in which you observed my client with your lover?"

"Yes."

"Other than Kevin Richards, did you witness any run-ins Justin had with any other students at St. James?"

"Yes."

"Could you describe them?"

"There was only one. I was coming to pick him up and a group of guys were standing around him and they were pushing him. They'd knocked his books out of his hands and he was picking them up."

"Did you see them knock his books out of his hands."

"No."

"What did you do?"

"I told Justin to come on, that we were going home."

"You didn't threaten them the way you did Kevin Richards?"

"No."

"You didn't go up to them and stand in between Justin and them the way you did with Christian Hobbs?"

"No."

"Mr. Kinney, have you ever told someone they were fucked?"

"Yes."

"And what did you mean when you said it?"

"That they'd better watch their backs," he said and people began to murmur.

Keisha wondered if Mason was purposely trying to lose this case. If there was anything she'd learned about Brian it was that he was brutally honest, even when it came to exposing himself and his own shortcomings.

"Let's talk about the prom. Where there any other adults at the prom?"

"Yes."

"Who were they?"

"I didn't know them personally."

"Were they dancing with any of the teenagers present?"

"No."

"Then they were chaperones?"

"If you want to call them that, fine."

"So you were the only adult dancing with a teenager?"

"Yes."

"The kiss that you gave your lover inside the prom, was it a peck on the cheek?"

"No."

"A kiss on the lips?"

"Yes."

"Was it a passionate kiss?"

"Yes."

"Had you kissed him like that before?"

"Yes," he replied, chuckling a little, and members of the jury and people out in the gallery did as well.

"In public?" Mason clarified.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"On the lips." This was too easy. Again there was scattered laughter.

"Have you ever had sex with Mr. Taylor in public?"

"Objection."

"I'll rephrase. Prior to the prom, had you ever had sex with Mr. Taylor in public?"

"No."

"Did any of the chaperones at the prom speak to you or Mr. Taylor after you danced and kissed?"

"No."

"Did they try to stop you from dancing with Mr. Taylor?"

"No."

"Did anyone other than Daphne Chanders speak to you at the prom?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Justin."

Keisha nearly laughed herself. Mason couldn't give Brian an inch. If he did, watch out.

Observing Brian from his seat near the back, Drew could see the signs of an impending episode. His nostrils were flaring and his brows were drawn; his hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly; and his eyes shone, visible even from the back of the room.

"Mr. Kinney, how did you feel, being at a high school prom?"

"What do you think? I felt completely stupid at first."

"Now, the entire time you were dancing, no one approached you?"

"No."

"None of the chaperones approached you?"

"I said no one approached us."

"Did you or Mr. Taylor speak to anyone other than Ms. Chanders?"

"No."

"What were you feeling as you ran after my client with that baseball bat in your hand?"

"I was angry. And scared."

"Scared of what, Mr. Kinney?"

"That Justin would die."

When Mason didn't object, Keisha wondered what he was up to.

"Then why didn't you stay with him?"

"I didn't want Chris Hobbs to get away."

"Why, Mr. Kinney?"

"Because he'd attacked Justin."

"Hadn't he dropped the bat?"

"Yes."

"Hadn't you seen him?"

"Yes."

"So the police would have had the weapon and an eyewitness, more than enough to arrest him, as they subsequently did."

And Keisha saw the realization dawn on Brian at last, the one thing he'd been avoiding thinking about, that his actions had not only been risky in terms of Justin's survival, they'd been pointless too. And it was a major score for Mason.

Mason returned to his table. "No more questions, Your Honor."

Keisha watched Brian. He looked as if he was about to collapse.

"Redirect?" Kramer asked her.

"No, Your Honor."

"The witness is excused. Please, call your next witness, Ms. Thomas."

As Brian left the stand, he paused by the defense table. Keisha prayed that he wouldn't cause another scene. She was aware of Justin moving in his seat behind her and she half-turned to try and prevent him from adding to the fray. But Brian looked away from Mason and went through the gate and slumped into the seat next to his lover. She released the breath she'd been holding. Stood. "Your Honor, the People call Daphne Chanders to the stand."

Brian didn't look up as Daphne entered the courtroom and was sworn in. He didn't listen as she stated her name and answered Keisha's preliminary questions. Instead he crouched deep inside of himself and tried to forget where he was. But he couldn't.

Keisha became aware of the jury's split focus about ten minutes into questioning Daphne. Glancing over at the gallery, she saw what had distracted them. Brian was crying. Although he didn't make a sound, everyone in the courtroom was aware of his weeping as they could see Justin wiping away his tears. She wished he could have held on a little longer, just until the lunch break, as Daphne's testimony was quite important: she had witnessed three of Justin's run-ins with Chris Hobbs and could corroborate Justin's testimony but few people were listening to her.

Finally, aware that most people were staring at him, Brian stood and exited the courtroom. As he moved, at least four reporters got up and both preceded and followed him out. Justin, torn between remaining in court where Keisha expected him to be and going with Brian where he wanted to be, was at an impasse until he heard Brian say, "Get the fuck out of my way." He dashed from the courtroom to find Brian with his fist twisted in the front of some guy's shirt and the guy up against the wall.

"Brian," Justin called. He came up next to his lover. "Let him go."

The man released the reporter and stormed away, Justin hurrying in his wake to catch up with him before some other journalist made the mistake of trying to talk to him. Brian headed for Keisha's office, waiting until Justin had entered to slam the door. Then he fell into Justin's arms, trembling. The teen held him until the quivering abated a little.

Brian could feel himself falling apart. He had really believed that he could make it, that he could hold it together until the trial was over, but he hadn't. He'd barely made it through his testimony and, now, he'd caused another scene. . . Keisha was going to kill him and the way he felt, he'd welcome death. It'd be better than trying to face everyone after today's revelations. Why hadn't he lied? He could have lied and no one would have been the wiser. He could have made up some story, used the story he'd told himself for fifteen years. He could have breezed through it like a pro and been okay. Justin and Mikey would have kept his secret. He would have denied ever taking money for sex and who would have known? No one.

Except him. He would have known.

Wiping his face with his hand, Brian laughed bitterly. "So," he asked, "what do you think I'll get? Life?"

"Brian. . ."

"It's gonna be on the fucking news tonight. Front page tomorrow morning. 'Ad Exec Admits to Selling Sex.' " He raked his hair back and laughed again. Sat and covered his face briefly.

"Nobody'll care."

"You don't believe that."

"I don't care."

"I don't believe you."

"What's done is done."

"Then you do care."

"I care about you. About what it's doing to you. But it doesn't change who you are. It's part of you. And I love you. All of you. The good and the bad. You don't think you've done worse things to me?" He laughed. "And I still love you. I came back. Every time. Because I wanted you. That hasn't changed."

Brian stood and took Justin into his arms.

They stayed in Keisha's office until the noon break when the Assistant District Attorney came in and ordered them to go down to the witness waiting room and have lunch with their friends. She had work to do. "And I want you back in that courtroom," she told them. "Both of you." 

 

The afternoon passed relatively quickly, with Daphne's testimony concluding and then Deb taking the stand. Despite the clothes and the new haircut, Deb remained Deb and continually had to cover her mouth and said, "Sorry, Your Honor," as she fought to keep it clean. But, as they had Daphne, the spectators and the jury loved her. She was real. Yet her love for both Brian and Justin was apparent in her testimony as she told of the change Justin had wrought in Brian and the way Brian had protected Justin, watched over the boy when his own family had washed their hands of him. And the tears she shed when she described Brian at the hospital were real. "He just looked so sad, like he'd just lost everything in the world," she told them and they believed her. They also believed her when she related how hard Justin had worked to try and get the school to pay attention to his complaints about Hobbs and to establish a Gay Straight Student Alliance. That she was proud of him was evident. By the time Mason got up to cross-examine her, she could have run for Witness of the Year.

Of course, Mason tried to dig into her personal life the way he had Brian's but Kramer was having none of it. Keisha figured he'd had enough of the man's underhanded tactics. Too bad he hadn't come to that decision prior to Brian's public humiliation. That he had been humiliated, she had no doubts. He sat next to Justin with his eyes lowered, there but not alert, not involved in the proceedings. And there was nothing she could do. She would have preferred it if he could have risen above the day's events but she didn't blame him for feeling the way he did. He'd been kicked in the nuts about a dozen times and that he hadn't bailed entirely was a testament to his love for Justin and vice versa.

When Mason finished his feeble attempt at a cross, Keisha passed on redirect and called her next two witnesses, the kids who'd been in the parking garage when Justin had been attacked. They hadn't seen Chris Hobbs hit Justin but they had witnessed Brian striking Hobbs and everything that had happened afterwards until the paramedics took Justin and Brian away. They hadn't added anything new to the information the jury had, just a different perspective. And it helped that they were All-American, good-looking, heterosexual, white kids with no alliance to or affiliation with Justin. They'd just had the misfortune to have been there when the attack occurred.

After their testimony concluded Kramer recessed court until Monday. Keisha, for one, was glad to have two days off. The past five had been exhausting and she looked forward to an entire weekend away from the trial. Not that she wouldn't think about the trial, just that she didn't have any witnesses to prepare or testimony to go over or anything pressing to attend to in the next forty-eight hours. Maybe she'd actually get to see Cecil this weekend. The man had been complaining that they hadn't spent any time together for the past month and a half and he was probably right. At least not any quality time. Well, she'd change that. Smiling, she resolved to call him as soon as she got up to her office. But first she needed to speak to Brian and Justin.

The two men were still seated behind her, waiting until the courtroom had cleared before facing the mob outside. Their friends were hovering around as well, to provide a buffer as they left. Keisha walked around to their side of the railing and leaned against it. "Ready to call it quits?"

Justin shook his head and looked over at Brian who looked less certain but he too shook his head. They'd come too far to give up now.

"You did good today."

And Brian snickered.

"You did. I know it was rough." She caught Brian's gaze and held it. "Get some rest this weekend. It'll be over soon. All of it. Promise." 

 

The hard part was over, they'd all testified, now all they had to do was sit through the testimony of assorted policemen, doctors, EMS workers, etc. before the defense' witnesses took the stand. Before Chris Hobbs took the stand. That would be hard. To listen to him defend his actions, to try and insinuate that Justin had caused the attack, had pushed him into almost killing him. That would be hard. Which was why he needed tonight, needed to be surrounded by family and friends, to laugh with Daph and Xavier and Rennie, to be teased by Emmett and Vic, have Deb pinch his cheeks, and tell Gus another Pooh story. . . he needed those things to help him feel alive. And he needed Brian. But Brian was with Drew at the moment talking quietly about the day's events. He saw Brian incline his head, listening to something the therapist was telling him, and then he smiled softly and nodded. Drew clapped him on the shoulder and exited. As soon as the shrink was gone, Justin went to Brian and kissed him gently. "Everyone's going to Deb's for dinner."

"Justin," Brian began, "I'm really not up for that."

"Please. Daph's gonna come and it'll be fun. It'll be good for you."

"Justin- -"

"Please. Just for a couple hours."

Brian gave in and agreed to go for a while, only he didn't feel like it, not at all. What he really wanted to do was to go home and curl up in bed with a stiff drink and Justin's arm around his waist, his blond head on his chest, and forget the day. But Justin wanted to go to Deb's and hang out.

Taking a cab home, they changed clothes, then hopped into the Jeep and headed for the Institute to pick up Xavier and Rennie. It was then that Justin began to worry. Usually Rennie's not-so-subtle lust for Brian put a smile on the ad exec's face, but this time Brian barely said hello and if he noticed Rennie drooling over him, he didn't show it. All during the trip to Deb's Brian was quiet, resisting any attempt to draw him out.

As they were the first to arrive, Deb set them to rearranging the furniture, and getting out the wine glasses, and emptying and refilling the ice trays, and chopping the vegetables for the pizzas she was making. When Brian offered to pay for take-out pizzas, she shushed him and said she'd rather do it herself, work out some of her anger towards that little asshole Chris Hobbs and Justin wished she hadn't mentioned him because Brian withdrew into himself again and seemed only half-there until the Munchers arrived with Gus at which point the baby demanded all of his daddy's attention.

Finally everyone arrived and the house resounded with laughter and good cheer. Wine flowed and toast after toast was offered in congratulations to all of their number who had survived testifying in the case and to all of those who'd come and given their support. Although Craig hadn't come- -it was too soon- -Jen had, with Molly, and the little girl, after watching the baby for while, approached Brian and asked if she could hold him. Wanting to get away from the noise, Brian surrendered Gus and made his way upstairs.

He could still hear them, the sound seeping through the floor beneath his feet. It'd only be a matter of time, he supposed, before Justin came up to find him. He looked around the room, bare again after Justin had moved out. Emptier even than before because Mikey had finally taken most of his things as well. Sitting upon the bed, he closed his eyes and wished for the thousandth time that he could forget. Everything. The sight of Chris Hobbs striking Justin. The days of uncertainty in the hospital. The trial. Himself. He had felt so naked, so exposed in court. Nothing remained to shelter him, no illusion, no lie, no hidden truth.

The sound of Justin's footsteps on the stairs alerted him to the teen's imminent arrival. He'd only been gone for a few minutes but he'd known that even those few would have been marked by Justin and that eventually he'd come looking for him.

Brian was sitting in the dark. Instead of turning on the overhead light, Justin switched on the lamp. Stood studying his lover in the half-light the lamp cast. It was as if Brian hadn't heard him come in: he didn't move, didn't even turn his head, gave no indication that he was aware of Justin's presence. Finally, Justin sat next to him and reached for his hand. Brian glanced at him, then looked away. "The pizza's almost done."

"I need to go home," Brian said.

"But everyone's here to celebrate."

"I told you I wasn't up for this and I'm not. I need to go," he said again.

But Justin didn't want to go. "They're here for us."

"I'm sorry."

"You always do this," Justin complained, rising from the bed. "It's always a drama with you. You're done testifying," Justin reminded him. "You made it."

Brian laughed bitterly. "You call this making it? I've lost about half my fucking skin. I feel. . . raw, Justin. Like I've been dragged over the pavement for half a mile."

"Then this is exactly what you need. To be with the people who care about you. To forget about Chris Hobbs and the trial and everything else."

"I can't."

"You won't," accused Justin. "Because it always has to be about you."

"Baby- -"

"I want to stay."

"Then stay. Get someone to drive you home," Brian said and he stood and walked past Justin without another word. Avoiding the questioning looks, he zipped through the livingroom and out the front door, ignoring Gus and everyone else who tried to call to him as he left.

Justin came slowly down the stairs. Found his glass of wine where he'd left it next to Daphne.

"What's wrong with Brian?" she asked.

"He's an asshole," he replied angrily.

Lindz took Gus from Molly. He'd started to get fussy now that his Da da had gone. "What happened?"

"He didn't want to come and instead of doing it for me, he bailed."

"It's been a rough week for him," said Michael in his defense.

And that did it. "It's been rough for me too!" Justin yelled.

Deb hurried over. "Sunshine, no one's saying it hasn't."

"Why can't he even try?"

"He has. Honey, he's tried harder for you than for anyone else in his life. Even for himself."

The tears that had been threatening to fall did then and he wiped them quickly away.

Jen went to him. "You want a ride home?" 

 

He looked around for the Jeep but it wasn't parked anywhere near the building and its newly assigned spot was empty. "He's not here," Justin told his mom before getting out his cell to call Brian. But Brian didn't answer. So he called Deb. When she answered he said, "He's not home." He heard her tell the guys and then he heard her say, 'Okay.' "What? What's going on?" he asked.

"Don't worry. Michael will find him and send him home."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. But Michael does. Don't worry. You stay there and wait for him. He'll be home soon."

When he'd hung up, Jen asked, "What did she say?"

"That Michael would find him and send him home and that I should wait."

She could tell he was furious. "What do you want to do?"

He tightened his grip on the cellphone. "I want to see my friends. Michael and Brian can go to hell."

So he called Deb's again and invited Daphne and Rennie and Xavier back to the loft. Daphne drove them over with half a pizza in their possession. By the time they arrived, Justin had the plates ready and the beer poured in glasses. Tried to put Brian out of his mind. They sat around the dining table, too afraid to have pizza and beer in the living room where the least spill would show up like the Tell-Tale Heart. And, of course, Rennie asked the wrong thing, the one thing all of them were thinking but that only she would voice.

"So, it doesn't bother you that Michael and Brian have these secrets?"

Both Xavier and Daphne shot her dirty looks.

Justin didn't answer. How could he? Hell yeah, it bothered him. It pissed him off. But what could he do? Bitch about it and then be accused of being a child? He wouldn't do it. "They're best friends. They've been through everything together. They can't help it if they know things about one another that I don't."

"But shouldn't Brian tell you? I mean, if you're lovers and all."

Xavier caught her eye. "Shut up," he mouthed and she shrugged.

Only, it was too late. Daphne had caught the truth fever from her. "She's right, you know? I mean, you two are a couple now. He shouldn't have secrets from you."

"Oh, great," moaned Xavier. "Women."

The two young women looked at him. "What do you mean by that?" Daphne asked.

"Just that sometimes people have secrets and it's no big deal."

"You shouldn't keep secrets from the people you love."

Aware that all eyes were upon him, including Justin's, Xavier explained. "Sometimes it's better not knowing."

Justin shook his head. "It's never better not knowing. At least, if you know, you can decide what you want to do."

"And what if you can't do anything? What if the secret's something so tight that you can't deal with it? Then what? You would have been better off not knowing."

The feeling that Xavier was talking about himself crept over Justin and he longed to shake the feeling off. But he couldn't. And yet, he didn't have the time or the mental energy to deal with any more secrets. He could barely keep up with Brian. And he and Xavier. . . it wasn't as important. Yet, it was important. Shit, why was it important to him to know? 

 

Michael knew the Jeep would be there. Parked down by the river. He knew Brian would be seated on a bench with his hands clasped between his open knees, eyes on the water.

Brian didn't even look around as Michael came up. He knew who it was. No one else knew about this place.

Taking a seat next to him, Michael opened and handed him one of the two beers he'd brought with him. Popped the top on the other one for himself. Brian took a long swig. "Guess he's mad as hell," he said.

"Yeah."

Brian held his beer in his hands, the cool bottle soothing despite the chill in the air. "Do you remember the time I wanted to blow up the school?"

Michael laughed. "Yeah. Where the fuck did you get the explosives for that anyway?"

"Fucking this guy who worked construction."

"Shit."

"Do you know why I wanted to blow it up?"

"Something to do?"

Brian cut his eyes at Michael, then relaxed, took another drink of beer. "Because I fuckin' hated that school. I was sick of it and I wanted to do something else, to start over."

"Like going to New York."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Like going to New York. You stopped me from blowing up the school and I didn't get the job in New York. But I thought. . . I thought this thing with Justin was my chance to start all over, to be someone different, better than I used to be."

"There was nothing wrong with the way you used to be."

And again Brian shot a glance at Michael. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"So you fucked around and you could be an asshole but you did what you wanted and you were happy."

"No." Brian looked back out over the Susquehanna. "I wasn't."

"Brian. . ."

"This week, in court, I came face-to-face with the person I used to be and I realized that I didn't like him too much. But it was who I was. Who I still am sometimes. Maybe I'm just fooling myself and I haven't changed at all. Maybe I'm still that same asshole who didn't give a shit about anybody or anything. Not even himself. That's the worst, you know? That I think I hated myself. I think that's why I did it. Why I needed all of them to want me. Because I didn't want myself."

"They wanted you because you were the best thing to come along."

"They wanted me because I'm a good advertiser. I'm the best. I can sell anything. Including me. But they weren't getting the real me. Or maybe they were. Maybe that's all I was. All I am." He lowered his head and sniffled. "I thought, if Justin wanted me, if he needed me, maybe I really was worth something. Maybe I could change. Maybe I could keep the good parts and get rid of the bad parts and maybe I'd be good enough for him. Only. . ." He studied the bottle in his hands before speaking again. "Only I don't know if there were any good parts." Turning away from Michael, he took another mouthful of beer. "The things I've done, Mikey. . . Why?"

"Everybody's done stuff they've regretted. That's life."

"How can he still love me?"

"Because he does. Because you're the best thing that ever happened to him." Michael eased Brian's head around. "Because you're a good man."

Softly Brian said, "I don't think I am. I think maybe I'm the worst thing that could have ever happened to him."

"He's alive because of you."

"Maybe he wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place- -"

"No." Michael shook his head. "You can't blame yourself for that." He wrapped an arm around his best friend and embraced him. After a moment, Brian hugged him as well. When they parted, Michael said, "You're good together. Don't let this trial destroy what you have. You're lucky to have each other. You can't let anyone or anything change that. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, go home before you give the Boy Wonder a heart attack. And you better be ready to keep it up all night long because he is pissed with you."

"He always is," grinned Brian. "And I always am." 

 

The teenagers left as soon as Brian got home, hastily making excuses and scramming, the two girls giving Brian mixed signals, impressed by him as usual but mad with him too for Justin's sake. They all made plans to meet at the Institute the next day and figure out something to do- - if they could ditch the press.

Justin closed the door behind them and stood with his back to Brian, trying to keep the anger under wraps. But he couldn't prevent a hint of resentment from creeping into his voice. "So I guess Michael found you."

"Yeah."

"Where did you go? Or is it a secret?"

Brian leaned against the couch. "Down by the river. I used to go there when I wanted to get away from everything." He took off his jacket and dropped it over the back. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not talking to you. For not trying harder." He didn't wait for Justin to respond. "But you wouldn't listen."

"That's not- -"

"I tried to tell you, Justin. And you wouldn't listen." And Justin couldn't say anything because it was true. "I know that I haven't always done the right things by you. But I'm trying, Justin. But I need you to try too. I need you. . . to be there for me. Not just when it's convenient or when you have time or when you feel like it."

Justin knew that what he was saying was true. He had ignored Brian, put the man's mood down to being self-involved when he'd known that Brian had needed him. But sometimes it was tiring. Sometimes he needed a break. "I get tired too, Brian."

"I know. But you're standing there and you're madder than hell that Michael found me and talked to me. Baby, you can't have it both ways."

The truth stung. Head lowered, he said softly, "I'm sorry."

Then Brian smiled. Waited for Justin to look up again. "Can we stop being sorry and maybe make love before my dick atrophies?"

Slipping into Brian's arms, Justin drew his head down for a deep kiss. As they parted, he said, "As if."

Standing behind him, Brian worked the teen's clothes off, dropping them in a heap upon the floor, then stripped and took the boy in his arms again. Pressed against his back and buttocks. Hands roaming Justin's torso and thighs as he kissed his neck and shoulders.

Justin reached back and gripped Brian's hip, pulling him in closer, the man's cock nestled between his cheeks. He rubbed his behind against Brian and sighed. He could feel his lover hardening. Feel himself stiffening as well.

Suddenly Brian released him and went around to the other side of the couch. Sat down and reached up. Pulled Justin over the top and onto his lap and continued to kiss him voraciously. Hungrily, he plied Justin's lips with wet, deep kisses, probing the boy's mouth with his tongue. Removing a hand from Justin's torso, Brian pushed open the teen's legs, spat upon his palm, and encircled his cock. It fairly leapt in his grip. He eased Justin onto his back and continued to kiss him as he jerked him off.

Brian could be rough and had been rough with him on many occasions and it never failed to excite him. Not quite sure what the man would do next, just letting go and putting himself in his capable hands. One of which was even now forcing the cum from his balls by the sheer intensity of his strokes.

Palm lubed by the teenager's precum, Brian continued to tug on his dick, thrusting his tongue into his mouth in sync with the movement of his hand. Justin was moaning and it was making his cock hard as well. But he wanted to make this evening last a good long time and in order to do that, he needed to get Justin to come now. Breaking off their kiss, he moved down the boy's torso, licking his skin as he did so, leaving a wet trail behind him leading from his chest to his groin. Justin's cock arched over his belly and Brian brushed the underside with his lips, withholding his tongue until he'd reached the head.

Justin arched his back as Brian closed his lips around the head of his dick and swiped his tongue across the tip. "Ahh!" he moaned and then gave a series of small cries while the man continued to paint the corona with his tongue, saliva applied in wide strokes. Then the head slipped further into his lover's mouth as Brian went down on him, lips tightening around the base of his cock before making their way back up the shaft.

He bobbed over the teen's groin for some minutes, sucking him furiously, twisting his head, twirling his tongue, hand closed over the boy's scrotum and squeezing lightly to churn the jizz in his balls.

Holding onto the chair arm, Justin raised up off the sofa and shouted. His cock slipped free of Brian's mouth and a string of cum landed on the man's cheek. Wrapping his hand around the root, Brian licked the head and another spurt struck his face. And another. Justin's spunk dripped from his skin. Hungrily, he lapped up the last bit that ran over the edge of his cock and onto his knuckles.

He trembled as Brian cleaned his cock and then watched as the man wiped his face clean and even licked that from his fingers. It was incredibly erotic and he felt his cock twitch. Even better, Brian hadn't gotten it all and when he leaned over to kiss Justin, the teen was able to kiss the rest from his face. He reached between Brian's legs as they kissed, filled his hand with his lover's hard, throbbing meat.

Brian moaned. "Hungry?" he asked breathlessly.

And Justin replied, "Starving." He raised a leg over Brian's shoulder and waited.

Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, which he had thrown over the back of the sofa, Brian removed a slender tube of lube. It never paid to be without it. He squirted the liquid in Justin's hand and inhaled as the teen spread it over the shaft and head of his cock. Then he looked down and watched while Justin pushed two fingers inside his ass. The sight made him even harder. He sat back on one knee, the other leg braced on the floor and urged the teen on. "Oh, baby. . . Deeper."

Justin pushed his fingers in as far as he could. Curled the tips and hissed. Fingered his hole until he was so ready for Brian, it was about to drive him crazy. He let his fingers slide free and then felt the wet tip of Brian's cock brush against his leg as he moved into position. His own dick had gotten hard again. Reaching down between his thighs, he guided Brian to his moist, hot center. "Ohhh," he uttered as his lover entered him, the wide head of his cock stretching him open.

Burying his dick inside Justin, Brian paused to catch his breath. He could feel his balls pressing against the teen's smooth behind. Feel Justin's hole tighten and relax around him. Withdrawing a little, he pushed back in and began rocking against him, loosening him up.

Although he loved it when they had sex in their bed (Their bed; how long and hard had he fought to make it so?), he loved it when they fucked on the couch second only to fucking in the shower. He loved being bent in two beneath the man, unable to move, having to take it any way Brian gave it to him. Being so close that every movement was amplified a hundred times. The soft cushions beneath his back and the hard body of his lover above him. And him, hard and soft. He loved throwing one leg over Brian's shoulder and gripping his waist with the other, his foot resting on the cavity just above Brian's buttocks, urging him to fuck him harder, faster, deeper. . . 

 

Having fallen asleep on the rug next to the couch, the throw from the sofa pulled over them, they awoke just as hungry as before. Brian sat on the floor, legs spread open as Justin sucked him to hardness, then held on as the teenager squatted and impaled himself on his cock. He rested his head against the edge of the sofa and tried to keep from shouting as Justin rode his cock and nibbled and gnawed on his throat, leaving raspberry-colored marks on his skin. Guys who thought bottoms were passive had yet to fuck anyone like Justin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his grip on the teen's slender waist. He knew men who claimed they couldn't get off if they were underneath but with Justin clenching him, he could get off on his back, his side, his knees, it didn't matter. And by the time the teen's ass had gotten through with him, he felt battered, bruised, and grateful. That he'd found someone equal to the task.

Justin sank down upon him and clamped his cock in between his swollen lips. He cried out and felt the first spurts of cum erupted inside Justin just as the teen's cock shot its load against his belly. It was one of the few times they'd come together. Not that it mattered. But it did feel good to come with Justin's hole going into spasms around him. It was as if the teen were sucking the cum from his dick and spitting it from his own, and the image never failed to take hold of him and shake him. 

 

Muscles stretched and sore, they showered and fooled around in the steam and hot water, laughing and playing in close quarters. Brian removed the shower head and set it to pulse and massaged his little boy, then surrendered the attachment and enjoyed the same treatment from Justin until good sense prevailed and they called it a night.

Glass of bourbon on the bedside table, Justin's arm around him, his blond head resting on his chest, Brian closed his eyes and felt at peace for the first time in over a week. 

 

**Saturday, November 17th**

Leaving Brian to finish loading the dishwasher, Justin answered the buzzer thinking it was one of the guys. "Yeah?"

"Is Brian there?" Even before the man identified himself, Justin knew who it was. "It's Cam."

For a split-second he was tempted to hang up and tell Brian it was for the wrong apartment but he knew Cam would only continue to buzz until he spoke to Brian either in person or via the intercom. "Yeah. Come on up." Releasing the door, he returned to the kitchen.

"Who was it?"

"Cam," he said, as if it didn't matter at all.

Brian turned on the appliance and stood with his hands gripping its chrome handle. Why?

"Do you want me to go?" asked Justin.

"No." He paused. "Not unless you want to." When Justin shook his head, Brian asked softly, speaking more to himself than his lover, "What does he want?"

"What does he always want?" Justin replied angrily, tired of Cam's meddling, his attempts to win Brian back.

"He knows it's over. I've told him- -"

"Then maybe you should tell him again!"

"Justin- -"

A knock at the door interrupted both of them. Cam. Changing his mind about staying- - at least in the same room- - Justin stormed off into the bedroom.

Wishing he could pretend that Justin hadn't answered the buzzer, Brian opened the door. It had apparently been raining because Cam's clothes were wet. As was his hair. He never remembered to carry an umbrella. Water dripped from his face, along his scalp, down his neck into his collar and Brian found himself wanting to wipe it away. And that made him angry, that he still had these impulses when it came to Cam. When was he ever going to be free of him, free of these feelings? "What?" he asked harshly, aware of the gruffness of his voice.

"Can I come in?" Brian stepped aside and waited while Cam came in and stood with a look of uncertainty on his face, at a loss it seemed now that he'd gained entrance.

"What do you want?" Brian asked again.

Cautiously, Cam removed his coat.

From the bedroom, Justin listened, with is back to them, refusing to look around and see even the faintest glimmer of love in Brian's eyes.

Having removed his wet jacket, Cam said, "I was worried about you."

"You don't have to be."

"But I was. I am. I know how hard this- -"

"No," Brian said, cutting him off, "you don't. You have no fucking idea. And why should you? It's not your concern."

"I'll always care about you, no matter what, Bri. I'll always- -"

"No." Brian walked away from him. Turned back around. "Why can't you stay away?"

"Because I love you."

Justin lowered his head. He should have gone. Anything, even being run out of his home, would have been better than this.

"Don't you fucking say that to me! We've been over this and you promised. I was there. I heard the words come from your mouth. You promised, Cam," said Brian foolishly. When had Cam ever kept his promises? Why had he believed that this time would be any different?

The temptation to look, to turn around and see them together was so great that his head had begun to swivel before he realized that that was the last thing he wanted, to have that image in his mind. Brian had no photos of him and Cam, or if he did, he kept them hidden away so Justin hadn't been subjected to seeing them together: two beautiful men who must have turned every head in a room when they were a couple.

Cam neared Brian. "Bri- - Baby- -"

"He's in there. Listening to us. Listening to you say that you love me. In our home. His and mine." He closed his eyes. "I want you to go. If this is what you wanted, just go."

To Justin, Brian's voice sounded weary, as if this confrontation had finally exhausted him.

"Is this what you want? Your entire life on the front page of some fucking newspaper?"

"I didn't ask for that."

"But it happened. Because of him. Is he worth it?"

"Fuck you." Brian stalked towards the door. "Get out."

"No." Brian turned around. "Answer me. Is he worth it?" Brian turned away. "Everyone's talking about it. Wherever I go. They're talking about you. It's the scandal of the year. I bet your mother's having a fuckin' heart attack. Probably hasn't spoken to you since the whole thing started." He moved closer to Brian. "You're lucky Jack Kinney's dead or else he'd be here right now telling you what a miserable- -"

"Shut up!"

"How does it feel? To finally have what you've always wanted: to be the talk of the town." He grabbed Brian's arm. "Playing with fucking children!" Brian pulled away and stood breathing heavily, unable to say anything.

Justin rushed from the bedroom, hackles up, and put himself directly between Brian and Cam. "Stay away from him," he warned the man. "He doesn't want you here. He doesn't want you."

Cam started towards Brian but Justin refused to budge. "So you'll fight for him this time, huh?"

Terified that another secret would be revealed, Justin said, "You can go now."

But Cam remained where he was, speaking to Brian's lowered head. "Did he tell you? How he came to me and asked me to leave you alone?"

Brian slowly raised his head and met Justin's eyes. The teen held his breath, not certain at all what Brian's reaction would be. Then Brian looked over his head at Cam. "You heard him. You can go now."

"Bri. . ."

"If you ever loved me, then just go. And don't come back, Cam. Don't call me, don't send me flowers, don't contact me at all." He swallowed. "Please."

"You belong with me."

"Not anymore." Brian climbed the steps to the bedroom and moved out of sight, leaving his lovers past and present alone together.

Calmly, Justin went to the door and opened it. Waited. After a moment, Cam left. Joining Brian in the bedroom, Justin found the man sitting on the bed, face pale.

"Thanks."

As much as he wanted to go to Brian and hold him and comfort him, he couldn't. "You still have feelings for him."

"No."

"Don't lie to me!" Brian's shoulders twitched. "You still love him."

He shook his head. "No, baby, I don't."

"Then why are you in here crying over him?"

"I'm not."

"Look at me." The teen watched as the man turned and it was true, he hadn't been crying but there was a sadness in his eyes and a great weariness that couldn't be denied. "Brian. . ."

"I remember." He stood and went to the closet, removed a box, and opened it. Took out an award and showed it to Justin. Just a small bronze medallion. "For the AIDS awareness ad I did. He was there. When I got it. With my parents." He shivered. "I knew it was a mistake, to ask them to come but it was the first time I'd gotten recognition for doing my job and and I wanted them to be there." He grimaced. "I should have known better. My dad went into overdrive when he saw that ad. It was 'fuckin' fairies' this and 'fuckin' fairies' that. He was on my back about it the rest of the evening and when I got home, I just- - I wanted to throw that award away. But Cam said, 'No, you keep it because you did good. You keep it and fuck your old man. Fuck him. What does he know?' " Brian sniffled. "And now he's gone. That person's gone and I don't know who he is anymore. And, Justin, he was a good person. And now he's just- -" He couldn't say it, the words were too hurtful: _He's just like me._ "He didn't even ask about the rape. It was like he didn't care. Did I do that to him? Did I change him? Because I don't want that to happen to you. I don't want you. . . I don't want you to change." 

Justin sat next to him and slipped his arm around him. "You didn't do anything to him. He did it to himself. We make our own pain, remember?" he asked, reminding Brian of the words he'd spoken to Justin about his parents and their impending divorce. "It's not your fault he's changed. It's not your fault." He waited to see if Brian believed him and realized that the man needed more convincing. "And if I change, I'm only going to get better." Brian laughed as Justin had intended. The teen kissed him softly. "You know, if he comes around here again, I'm gonna kick his ass," Justin said and then realized it would probably remind Brian of what Cam had said about their previous encounter. He really hoped Brian had forgotten.

"So what was that about you going to see him?" Brian asked, not having forgotten at all. But a smile curled around his lips and Justin knew things were all right between them.

"I just told him to leave you alone. That's all." He rubbed his face against Brian's shoulder. "I don't like people messing with you."

"I see that." Brian smiled again, thinking about how Justin had protected him in the courtroom this week too. "My ferocious baby cat." Kissed his fingers. "Look at those sharp claws."

Justin toppled Brian onto his back and straddled him. Lowered his head and nipped his neck as he raised Brian's shirt and lightly scratched his belly. "Mmmmm. . ." he breathed and Brian sighed in contentment. He loved to hear his baby cat purr.


	18. In Shadow or In Light, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the trial; and new beginnings.

**Monday, November 19th**

**Noon**

The morning session had gone well, with the EMS technicians testifying, in their professional opinion, to Justin's condition after the attack. Although Brian had given similar testimony, it always sounded better coming from a disinterested third party. Both testified to the state of the victim and defendant and described Brian's demeanor as well. One of the paramedics told the jury in particularly descriptive terms how Brian had crouched over Justin, shielding him with his body, told them how the man had stood by in a daze as they attended to the teenager, tears streaming down his face, shaking with grief and fear.

After the paramedics, the two officers who'd arrived first at the parking garage took the stand, giving testimony regarding both the physical layout of the crime scene and the incident between Brian and Chris Hobbs in the hospital. As with the medics, their testimony was fairly damaging to the defense. Mason only put up a token resistance as he perfunctorily cross-examined them, asking each witness a couple of questions that might have been omitted.

Keisha felt uneasy. She didn't know what Mason had up his sleeves but she suspected something. Racking her brains, she couldn't come up with anything and again she asked Brian and Justin if they were keeping anything from her and again they denied it. Resolving to keep an eye on Mason, she decided to wait and see. If everything went smoothly, she expected to rest the prosecution's case this afternoon and Mason might actually begin presenting the defense's. She couldn't wait until Chris Hobbs took the stand. All through the proceedings he'd sat next to Mason keeping his face relatively emotionless. She intended to change that. Hobbs was hiding something and she intended to find out just what it was.

The noon recess called, Brian, Justin, Jen, and Deb sat in the witness waiting room alone, the other witnesses having left the building for lunch. Deb had brought sandwiches for all of them, and she passed them around, making sure to give Brian the one with no mayo.

None of the rest of the gang had come, busy with work and other obligations. Brian and Justin didn't begrudge them their absence. They hadn't really expected them to come everyday anyway and now that they were together, it didn't seem so important anymore.

"Do you think you'll have enough time once the trial is over to catch up with your classes?" Jen asked.

"I've been getting the notes from Rennie and Xavier and trying to go over them at night but. . . it's hard concentrating."

"What about your work? Your sketching and painting?"

"I haven't really done anything new for a while."

Brian heard the sad note in his voice. Even though they'd been getting out of court by five, neither one of them had felt much like working once they'd gotten home. The weekends they mostly spent catching up on sleep they'd missed during the week and just unwinding. And, of course, Justin had had to deal with him and his problems. One more thing to feel guilty about and he did. But he said nothing because to admit that he felt responsible would only make Justin feel worse. He resolved to make it up to the teenager once the trial was over, somehow. Finishing off his sandwich, he became aware of Justin's attention. Glanced up to find him smiling at him. "What?"

"Hey."

The two women left to find the restroom and to freshen up before court reconvened. The other witnesses hadn't returned yet. So Justin slid over onto Brian's lap and kissed him. "Hey," the teen said again.

"Hey." He eased Justin from his lap. "Keisha would kill us if someone got a picture of us making out in the courthouse."

"Spoilsport."

"We'll be home by six; time enough then."

Justin sat in his seat and drank the last of his soda. "I can't wait until Wednesday night." The two men were going to take care of Gus while his mommies got ready to host Thanksgiving dinner at their house. "Except we'll have to wait until Gus goes to sleep to fool around."

"That all you think about? Fooling around?" teased Brian.

"I can't help it. You're just too hot."

"True," agreed Brian and Justin laughed, glad that his man was slowly returning. 

 

After court reconvened, Detective Smits testified, corroborating Brian and Deb's testimony regarding Christian Hobbs' statement in the hospital. He also testified regarding the crime scene as he found it when he arrived in the parking garage. After Smits, the two crime lab technicians gave testimony regarding fingerprints and blood stains on the baseball bat, bloodstains on Brian's scarf, the amount of blood present at the crime scene, and Chris Hobbs' alcohol level at the time of the attack. A significant piece of evidence was revealed, that Christian Hobbs was not intoxicated when the attack occurred although he had been drinking.

The law enforcement witnesses dismissed, Keisha turned to the medical profession, calling the emergency room doctor and neurosurgeon who was consulted in Justin's case. Both Dr. Gates and Dr. Winchell testified that without immediate aid, Justin would most likely have died. "When Justin was struck, the arteries between the outer covering of the brain and the inside of the skull were broken, causing bleeding. Without medical attention to relieve the bleeding, hematoma can form, putting pressure on the brain and causing permanent brain damage or death," Dr. Winchell explained.

"What are hematoma, Doctor?"

"Blood clots."

"Had these blood clots formed in Justin's brain?"

"Justin was fortunate that we were able to treat him in a relatively short period of time after his injury occurred. We were able to administer drugs to relieve the pressure without having to perform surgery. But, yes, hematoma had formed."

"Without immediate medical attention, could Justin Taylor have died?"

"Yes. Mr. Taylor was unconscious when they brought him to the hospital and his score on the Glascow Coma Scale at that point was below nine putting him in the severe category."

"What is the Glascow Coma Scale and what does it indicate?"

"The Glascow Coma Scale is used to assess the severity of a traumatic brain injury. It's administered when the patient is admitted and repeated at a fifteen minute interval. When he was admitted, Mr. Taylor's score was three, the lowest score on the scale. Gradually, over the hours, as he regained consciousness, his score improved putting him in the moderate range, and eventually, within twenty-four hours, he'd scored a perfect fifteen. I don't believe we would have seen such rapid improvement except that Mr. Kinney was able to quickly call for help. Without immediate medical attention, Mr. Taylor would most certainly have either died or sustained severe and permanent brain injury."

"Dr. Winchell, could you demonstrate for the jury, how Mr. Taylor's brain was injured when he was struck?"

"I'd need my model."

"Your Honor, Dr. Winchell has a model of a brain which he'd like to use in order to demonstrate the type of injury Mr. Taylor sustained."

Kramer waited for an objection from Mason and when none was offered, allowed Keisha to introduce the model into the evidence. After showing it to Mason and establishing its foundation, she had it entered into the record by the Clerk. "Your Honor, I'd like Dr. Winchell to approach the jury so that they can see what he's doing."

"Go ahead."

After the physician came down from the witness stand, Keisha handed him the model and asked, "Dr. Winchell, could you describe the model and then demonstrate and explain what happened to Mr. Taylor's brain when he was struck in the parking garage?"

The model was a transparent skull with a pink-colored brain on the inside. The brain itself was connected to the skull by a series of filaments designed to simulate arteries. Holding the model in his hands, Dr. Winchell explained, "Well, Justin was struck in the forehead on the right side. When he was hit, his brain was jarred so that it impacted with the back of his skull first and then the front of his skull. We call this a coup-contra-coup injury." He struck the front of the skull and the brain hit the back of the skull and then the front. "The end result is that the brain is injured in two places rather than just one."

Although Justin had known about his injuries, seeing the recreation in front of his eyes made him feel a little woozy. Leaning against Brian, he shut his eyes and tried to breathe evenly.

After Keisha finished questioning Dr. Winchell, Mason stood and tried to introduce an element of doubt into the physician's testimony.

"Dr. Winchell, is it possible for a person to have been struck with the amount of force that Justin Taylor was struck and not sustain any permanent brain injury?"

"It's possible but not probable."

"But the probability exists?"

"A very low probability."

"Justin Taylor sustained relatively mild injuries, didn't he?"

"He was fortunate. Very fortunate."

With Dr. Winchell dismissed, the prosecution was able to rest its case. Due to the late hour, it was almost four forty-five, the judge dismissed court for the day, to reconvene at nine the next morning, at which time the defense would take the stage. 

 

**Tuesday, November 20th**

Having had a taste of Mason's style from his cross-examinations, Keisha expected the man to put on a show. Additionally, she assumed it'd be a Christian Hobbs love feast from beginning to end, with all of the witnesses testifying as to what a fine, upstanding young man the defendant was. Unlike her method, which was to bring any potential problems to the surface up front and out in the open, she knew Mason would keep any bombshells under wraps for her to ferret out as best she could. Still, she didn't anticipate anyone bringing forth any new or damaging information as far as Justin or the attack was concerned. They were all basically character witnesses. She could expect Dixon and Perkins to insinuate that Justin had been as much of a troublemaker as Hobbs, if not more of one; could expect 1) Smithers to lionize Hobbs since he had been one of his star players, 2) Reverend Collier to tell the court how Hobbs attended church every week and was a good example for the younger kids, and 3) Matthew Lewis and Lisa Monroe to give a slightly different take on the fight in the locker room, the argument on Liberty Avenue, and the infamous dance at the prom.

True to her expectations, the witnesses did just that, none of them deviating from the script that Mason had most likely crafted from their sessions together. Instead of a direct examination it felt more like a performance. Keisha hoped that the jury could see the differences between how she had questioned her witnesses and this show the defense attorney was putting on for them. Despite Mason's attempts to turn the proceedings into "I Love Christian Hobbs", when it was time for the cross-examination, the Assistant District Attorney asked each of the witnesses some tough questions.

Of Matthew Lewis, she asked, "Are you and the defendant close friends?"

"He's my best friend."

"Did you talk with him about his run-ins with Justin Taylor?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever give him any advice concerning Justin?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him to stay away from Taylor cause he was trouble."

"And how was Mr. Taylor trouble, Mr. Lewis?"

"He was always stirring up trouble."

"Could you give us an example?"

The teen looked uncomfortable. "That Gay Straight Student Alliance. No one wanted that."

"But Mr. Taylor and Max Freiberg have testified that some students turned out for their first meeting."

"The freaks and geeks."

Keisha noted with satisfaction that some of the jurors looked a little unhappy with Lewis' characterization. "Were you in school the day Justin Taylor's locker was burned?"

"I was there."

"Did you witness Justin's reaction?"

"Yes."

"Can you describe his reaction?"

"He was pissed."

"How did you feel?"

Lewis shrugged. "Wasn't my locker."

Lisa Monroe, of course, had been dating Hobbs. She'd described her relationship as being more than casual but that they hadn't gotten to the going steady stage yet by the prom. Still, she hadn't been seeing anyone else but Hobbs. They made a handsome couple, Lisa and Christian and Keisha wondered how many of the jurors were comparing Lisa and Chris to Brian and Justin.

"Ms. Monroe, were you involved sexually with the defendant?" Keisha asked, noting that Mason had neglected to bring it up during his direct examination.

"Yes."

"Did Mr. Hobbs tell you about his sexual encounter with Justin Taylor?"

"No."

"When did you find out?"

"When Justin told everyone on Liberty Avenue." Her nose wrinkled up in distaste.

"How did that make you feel?"

"I didn't believe him."

"Why not?"

"Because Chris wasn't gay."

"Why did you think Justin would say something like that if it weren't true?"

"I thought he was just showing off for his boyfriend."

"For Mr. Kinney?"

"Yes."

"Did Mr. Kinney look impressed?"

She thought for a moment, replaying the incident in her mind. "No."

"Did the defendant offer any explanation as to why Justin would say they'd had sex?"

"He said that Justin had the hots for him."

"Did you believe him?"

"Yes."

"Why did you believe him?"

"Cause Justin was gay."

"Did you think every gay student at St. James wanted the defendant?"

"No."

"Did Justin give any indication that he wanted Hobbs, other than telling that story on Liberty Avenue?"

"No," she admitted.

During the lunch recess, Keisha and the guys sat in her office and had lunch together, ordering from Dingbats the way they had the first day of jury selection. "So," she said, "it's winding down."

"Not fast enough," commented Justin.

"Sick of it, huh?"

"I wanna go back to class, go back to my studio. I want to hang out with my friends."

She nodded. "It's a bitch, that's the truth." Finishing her sandwich, she asked him, "If it were over today, what would you do?"

Justin thought for a moment, then replied, "I'd go home, light some candles, have some champagne, and make love all night."

Rolling his eyes, Brian said, "That's all he thinks about. Sex. It's a wonder I'm not crippled by now."

"Oh, yeah," she agreed, "Mr. Thirty Tricks a Month, tired of sex."

Thankful for her intervention, Justin snorted with laughter. He was going to miss her when this was all over. Meeting her was one of the few good things to come out of the entire experience. Meeting her and the fact that he and Brian seemed closer than ever. Even though it'd been hard and would probably continue to be hard until the sentence was pronounced, he had no doubt that they would come out of it even better than before. 

 

The afternoon session went about the same as the morning with Mason leading his witnesses through the Gospel According to Christian Hobbs. According to his teachers, coach, and pastor, Hobbs had been subjected to the unwholesome machinations of Justin Taylor. In fact, according to the staff at St. James Academy, the entire school had suffered at the hands of the outspoken teen. Single-handedly, Justin had undermined the moral fiber of the academy with his unwelcome activism. Aware that attacking them on the grounds that they had failed as educators and as role models would only get their backs up, Keisha, nevertheless, couldn't let them off the hook entirely. After all, these incidents occurred over the course of a year, primarily on school property or at school-sponsored events and yet no one had done anything, even when the problem was brought directly to their attention.

Trying to keep an incredulous tone out of her voice as she questioned him, Keisha quizzed Dixon on the homeroom episode. "Mr. Dixon, did you see Justin Taylor and Christian Hobbs pushing one another on the morning of Justin's suspension?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you send both of them to the principal's office."

"I try to handle things on my own before resorting to that."

"What did you do?"

"I told them both to take their seats."

"Justin Taylor, Daphne Chanders, and Max Freiberg all testified that you singled Justin out saying that the next time he caused trouble, he'd have to talk to the principal. Do you remember making that statement?"

"I might have."

Kramer addressed Dixon. "You will answer the question yes or no, Mr. Dixon."

"Yes. I guess I did say it."

"Weren't they pushing each other?" Keisha asked.

"Yes."

"Did you observe any of the prior interactions that morning before they started pushing one another?"

"No."

"Then why did you assume Justin had caused the trouble?"

"I just did."

"Did Justin have a history of causing trouble at St. James?"

"He and Hobbs had had a fight in the locker room."

"Were you present at that fight?"

"No."

"Did you talk to any of the students who were present?"

"No."

"Did you talk to Coach Smithers about the incident?"

"He mentioned it in a meeting."

"What did Coach Smithers say in the meeting about the fight?"

"He said that Justin Taylor had started the fight." He added, "That he was flaunting himself."

In the gallery, the words stung Justin as they'd been the very ones his dad had used.

"Did he say how Justin flaunted himself?"

"No."

"How do you interpret the meaning of the statement, Mr. Dixon?"

"That Taylor was flaunting his homosexuality."

"Did you know by that time that Justin Taylor was, in fact, gay?"

"I assumed that he was."

"Why?"

"I'd heard about him arriving at school with that man, Brian Kinney, and what was painted on his Jeep."

"But you'd never heard Justin Taylor say that he was gay?"

"No."

"Did you ever observe Justin Taylor, prior to the fight in your homeroom, flaunting his homosexuality?"

"No."

"Could you tell us, Mr. Dixon, what kind of behavior you would consider to be indicative of flaunting one's homosexuality?"

Dixon looked uncomfortable. "I don't know, exactly."

"Can't you give us one example?"

"No."

"Yet, you were ready to assume that Justin Taylor had started the fight in homeroom because you'd heard a rumor about him flaunting his homosexuality?" Keisha waited for an answer.

Again, Dixon looked as if he would rather be anywhere but on the stand. He knew if he didn't answer the question, the judge would instruct him to. Finally, he replied, "Yes."

When Dr. Perkins, the principal, took the stand, she questioned him closely about his meeting with Jennifer Taylor and Justin and his refusal to allow a Gay Straight Student Alliance on campus.

"Were all of your students Episcopalian?"

"No. We have Muslim students and Catholic students and Hindu students."

"Would you have allowed a Catholic Student Association on campus?"

"Yes. We actually have one."

"But St. James is an Episcopalian-affiliated school, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Were all of your students heterosexual?"

"Obviously not."

"Was one of the reasons you gave Jennifer and Justin Taylor for your refusal to allow a Gay Straight Student Alliance that some of your parents might complain?"

"Yes."

"In light of September 11, have you had any parents call with concerns about the Muslim students attending St. James?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a Muslim student group on campus? A club or some other kind of association?"

"Yes."

"Have you asked them to suspend activities?"

"No."

The Reverend Collier she asked only a couple of questions as he'd practically canonized Chris Hobbs in his testimony.

"Reverend Collier, have you ever made mention of homosexuality in any of your sermons at your church?"

"In passing."

"What is your stance on homosexuality?"

"I believe that it is unnatural and strictly forbidden by the Bible." He looked smug and self-satisfied.

"And you said that in your sermons?"

"Yes."

"What would you do if you found out that one of your parishioners was homosexual?"

"I'd try to counsel him or her to renounce it."

"Did Christian Hobbs come to you with any concerns about homosexuality?"

Collier's face twisted in disgust, whether at the idea or the question, it was difficult to tell, perhaps both. "I'm not able to disclose that information."

At the defense table, Mason looked less than pleased.

 _If you don't like that, just wait until I finish with Mr. Hobbs himself_ , Keisha thought. He was going to come clean, one way or the other.

By the time Coach Smithers had testified, Keisha found herself unable to fathom how Justin had survived at that school. Having had to face hostility at every turn, having found understanding and compassion nowhere on campus, it was no wonder that he'd turned to Brian and the gang. It hadn't been just sex that he'd wanted from Brian, but a place, a sense of community, of belonging. That probably, more than anything else, had given him the strength to face the troubles at St. James.

Giving Smithers the once-over, she immediately pegged him as the kind of gung-ho, homophobic asshole that seemed to be drawn to high school coaching where homoerotic feelings were fostered and intensified and then suppressed as if they didn't exist. Why not admit it and deal with it? Instead, everyone walked around pretending as if they felt nothing, as if they were aware of nothing.

"Did you witness the fight between Justin Taylor and Christian Hobbs in the locker room?"

"No, I came after they'd been pulled apart."

"Yet, Mr. Dixon has testified that you told the other teachers in a meeting that Justin Taylor had flaunted himself. What evidence did you have?"

"I talked to some of the other students."

"And they told you that Justin had flaunted himself?"

"No, they said that Justin had instigated the fight."

"What did Justin do to start the fight?"

"Apparently he hit Christian Hobbs."

"Did the students tell you that the defendant had pushed Justin first?"

"No."

"Lane Jenkins testified that Christian Hobbs had started the fight. Did you talk to Lane Jenkins about the fight?"

"No."

"Which students did you talk to about the fight?"

"Christian Hobbs and Matthew Lewis."

"The defendant and his best friend. Anyone else?"

"No."

"You didn't talk to Justin Taylor?"

"I talked to him."

"And what did he tell you?"

"He said that Christian had started the fight. That Chris had threatened him."

"Threatened him how?"

"That Chris had told him he would kill him."

Waiting until the jury and the audience had quieted down, Keisha asked, "And what did you think about that?"

"I thought he was exaggerating. Or that Chris had said it in the heat of the moment, he didn't really mean it."

"Did you notify Justin Taylor's parents about the fight?"

"Yes."

"Did you notify Christian Hobbs' parents as well?"

"I told the office that he'd been involved in a fight with Taylor, I assume someone in admin called them."

"But you didn't call them personally?"

"No."

"But you called Justin Taylor's parents personally, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

By the time Keisha finished with Smithers it was four forty-two and Judge Kramer adjourned court. Justin and Brian left Keisha making notes at the prosecution table and called Willie to come and pick them up out back. They were familiar enough with the routine that they could time their arrival at the door to coincide perfectly with the cab's appearance. Ignoring the microphones and chants, the two climbed into the taxi and settled down as Willie pulled away from the curb and headed for home.

Inside the loft, the two shucked their court clothes and changed into their robes, not bothering to put on anything else. While Justin grilled a couple of turkey burgers, Brian made a salad and shook together a bottle of vinaigrette. It was time to get Deb to go shopping again for them. They were nearly out of everything, especially coffee, the one thing Brian couldn't do without. Other than his little boy.

Sitting together at the table, a single votive lit between them, they ate and talked about nothing, mostly about their almost non-existent plan to redecorate.

"Maybe we can go towards a more Oriental look. Japanese. Very minimalist," Justin said.

"It's already minimalist. What would be the point in changing from Italian to Japanese?"

"Different feel," Justin replied.

"You just like spending my money," teased Brian.

"Aren't you my sugar daddy?"

Ignoring the dig, Brian returned his thoughts to the suggestion. "I could replace the grass with bonsai trees. Maybe have a mini rock garden."

"You've already got a shoji screen." Between the bathroom and the rest of the apartment. "And Noguchi lamps."

"True." He finished his salad. "It might work. What about the sofa and chairs? And this?" The dining set. "And the chaise lounge? You wouldn't want to get rid of it, would you?" he asked, as both of them remembered the good times they'd had on it.

Justin grinned. "We could have fun on something else."

Just the mention of fun made Brian think about the trial. "God, I cannot wait until this is over and we can go out again."

"Getting bored with me?"

"You'll just have to think of some new ways to amuse me."

His mouth fell open. "Fuck you."

"That's a start," Brian retorted.

Leaving him at the table, Justin carried his stuff into the kitchen. Sensing that his little boy needed some coaxing, Brian followed him. The teen was at the sink, rinsing his plate in preparation for putting it in the dishwasher. Brian put his plate and glass inside the sink too and pressed up against Justin from behind.

"I'm not your maid," Justin said before picking up Brian's plate too and rinsing it.

Brian untied Justin's robe. "I prefer the term, 'house boy.' " He drew the robe back over Justin's shoulders but not completely off as the teenager wouldn't stop what he was doing. Brian reached around and took hold of his cock. Stroked it. Felt Justin tense up, then relax. Releasing him, the ad exec pumped a handful of the lotion he kept next to the sink and spread it on Justin's penis. The teen sighed, giving himself over to the older man's motions. Slowly, Brian fondled the boy until Justin began to stiffen in his hand. Turning around, Justin still in his arms, Brian leaned back against the sink and continued to stroke him. He whispered in Justin's ear, "Feel good?"

"Yes."

He pumped a second handful of lotion and rubbed it over Justin's chest and belly, his other hand still busy at the teenager's groin. Justin's head fell back against his shoulder. "I love it when my baby gets hard," he breathed. He could feel the tips of Justin's nipples beneath his palm, could feel the veins standing out along his shaft. Justin shivered and Brian tightened his grip causing the teen to gasp. Slipped his other hand between his legs and cupped his scrotum. "I bet you've been wanting to get off all day." Brushed his fingers over the tight skin.

He combed through Justin's pubes leaving them sticky with lotion, then used both hands to stroke his cock, the engorged, red organ streaked with pale cream. "I bet you wanna come right now, don't you?"

"Yes. . ." moaned Justin.

He ran his finger over the tip of Justin's dick and precum gushed forth to drip over his knuckles. Tightened his hold and increased his strokes.

"Oh," Justin whispered. "Oh. . ."

Giving him a hard tug, Brian licked his ear and bit it gently on the edge.

Justin jerked and cum splattered the chrome cabinet opposite them, ran down the shiny surface. Another stream followed the first and then a third and then the flow reduced to a trickle, running down Brian's hand.

Kissing Justin along his jaw, Brian let him go and washed his hands while Justin leaned against the counter, still trembling. Sugar daddy. Right. He had something better than money. 

 

**Wednesday, November 21st**

Mason stood and paused and Keisha wondered what was going on. The only witness left was Chris Hobbs and she could feel the palpable interest of everyone in the courtroom. "Your Honor," the defense attorney began, "I'd like to call Kip Thomas to the stand."

Justin felt Brian's hand tighten around his. Oh God. . .

As expected, Keisha sprang from her seat. "Your Honor, this witness- -"

"Your Honor, I apologize for the late notice but I just learned of Mr. Thomas this morning."

 _This morning my ass,_ thought Keisha. "Your Honor, I protest this late addition."

Kramer gazed long and hard at Mason. "Mr. Mason, Ms. Thomas, could you both join me at the bench?" The two counsels approached the bench and waited for Kramer to speak. "Mr. Mason, who is this Kip Thomas?"

"Your Honor, Kip Thomas is a former employee of the firm where Mr. Kinney works. In fact, Mr. Thomas worked directly under Mr. Kinney."

"And what is the relevance of his testimony?"

"Mr. Thomas filed a sexual harassment suit against Mr. Kinney."

Keisha closed her eyes momentarily and vowed to kick their asses from here to Philadelphia. Could they have told her this? Still. . . "Your Honor, that's very interesting but I fail to see how it bears on this particular case."

"Mr. Mason, I'm afraid I concur with Ms. Thomas."

"Your Honor, Mr. Thomas dropped his suit due to intervention from Mr. Taylor. I believe knowledge of this intervention is vital to my client's defense as it illustrates first-hand Mr. Taylor's tenacity when it comes to getting what he wants and his lack of scruples in doing so."

Keisha watched as Kramer debated allowing the testimony. Finally, he made up his mind. She knew his decision before he spoke.

"I'll allow the witness' testimony."

"Your Honor, may I have a few moments to speak with Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor regarding this witness?"

"I'll call a brief fifteen-minute recess."

Returning to her table, Keisha's mind raced. _What the fuck. . . ?_ As soon as Judge Kramer called the recess, she herded Brian and Justin into an empty holding room and closed the door. "Talk. Now."

Brian, looking as shame-faced as he could, began. "Kip Thomas worked for me. I fucked him twice and when I didn't put him up for this promotion he wanted, he sued me for sexual harassment."

"Jesus Christ, weren't you getting enough from Justin and the twenty-nine other guys you were fucking each month?"

"I didn't say it was smart. I just said that I did it."

Turning to Justin, she asked, "And what did you do?"

"I picked Kip up in a bar and he took me back to his place. Then I told him I was underage and that my dad would have him arrested if he found out. Kip started freaking out and I told him that I wouldn't tell my dad as long as he did something for me."

Keisha leaned back against a table. "Drop the suit. Shit." Shook her head. "Shit." Rubbed her forehead. Asked Brian, "Did you know about this?"

"Not at first. I didn't know why he'd dropped the suit."

Justin asked Keisha, "How bad is it?"

"Bad."

"Why?" Brian inquired. "So Justin lied to the asshole and got him to drop a suit that was total bullshit anyway. What's the big deal?"

"Reasonable doubt. After Kip Thomas testifies, the jury'll begin to doubt that Justin is as sweet and innocent and pure as he seems to be and Chris Hobbs can get up on that stand and say whatever he wants, about how Justin pushed him and taunted him and they just might believe it because of what Kip Thomas testified to, that Justin had deliberately trapped him. It won't matter that the charge against you was phony. That was never proved. The only thing they'll remember is that Justin forced Kip Thomas to do something he didn't want to do."

"Like I forced Chris Hobbs to have sex with me in the equipment shed," Justin said softly.

"That's bullshit," Brian pronounced.

"That's what they'll think."

Brian addressed the Assistant District Attorney. "Can't you do something?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Kip Thomas?"

"Because he didn't have anything to do with this case."

"I'm the one with the fuckin' law degree. I decide what has to do with this case. Understand?" He said nothing. "Anything else?" she asked as she had asked before.

"No," he replied in a much subdued voice.

"Now, I'm going to go back in there and try to do damage control and you two better sit behind me and act like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. And you're going to write down everything you remember about what happened. You got me?"

Neither of them answered but they'd both understood. 

 

Kip sat on the stand as if he were an angel of God come down to smote the wicked. He had no problem looking at Brian or the jury or Keisha or anyone else for that matter. That spoke of coaching. So much for Mason's assertions that he'd just been contacted by Thomas about testifying. They'd probably been working on this the entire trial. She had no doubt that Mason had come into the trial knowing that he'd pull this little stunt. Asshole.

"Mr. Thomas, describe your first meeting with Mr. Kinney."

"I'd asked to work with Mr. Kinney. I'd been at the firm for a couple months and everyone said that he was the best account exec in the firm so I asked Mr. Ryder if I could work with him. He was having a meeting with Bob and Brad about the Shumann Shoe account so I went in and introduced myself. He asked me what I thought about Bob and Brad's mock-up for the new ad and then he asked me what I would have done so I told him. He liked my idea and told us to work on a new mock-up."

"Did Mr. Kinney use your idea for the final ad?"

"Yes. He told me he'd put his name on anything that was good."

"Did Mr. Kinney have you work on any other accounts?"

"The Liberty Air account."

"And did he use any of your ideas on that ad campaign?"

"I wasn't employed by the firm by the time the ad campaign began."

"But did he use any of your ideas, that you can tell?"

Brian tensed. He hadn't used any of Kip's ideas. That campaign was his baby and his alone.

"No," replied Kip.

So he wouldn't lie about some things.

"Mr. Thomas, did you and Mr. Kinney have sexual relations?"

"Yes."

"While you were working for him?"

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Twice."

"Could you describe those occasions?"

"Once was in his office. Just after I'd found out he was going to go with my ideas for the Schumann ad. Then he told me he wanted me to work on the Liberty Air campaign."

"Did Mr. Kinney approach you or did you approach him?"

"He approached me."

Brian ground his teeth and had to fight not to get up and call him a fucking liar. Continued to write down information for Keisha.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He told me that if I slept with him, he'd watch out for me. Make sure I went places in the firm."

Justin felt Brian tense up and he laid a hand on his arm, willed him to remain calm, but he could tell it would only be a matter of time before Brian exploded.

"What about the second time you had sex?"

"It was at his loft. He asked me to come over to work with him on the Liberty Air campaign."

"Did you do any work on the campaign that night?"

"No."

"What prompted you to file the sexual harassment suit against Mr. Kinney."

"I wanted him to recommend me for a promotion and he wouldn't, and when I challenged him he threatened to have me fired."

"Bull fucking shit!" Brian yelled standing. "That's a goddamn lie and you know it!" The legal pad he'd been writing on fell to the floor and it looked as if he were going to storm the witness stand and choke Kip but Justin gripped his wrist and pulled him down.

Kramer struck the gavel. "Order. Mr. Kinney, if you can't control your outbursts, I'm going to cite you for contempt of court and have you forcibly removed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Honor," he replied curtly.

"You may continue, Mr. Mason."

Raymond looked like the Cheshire cat, all teeth. "Mr. Thomas, did you know Brian Kinney was involved with Justin Taylor?"

"No."

"Describe your meeting with Justin Taylor."

"I was in Woody's and he came up to me and started hitting on me."

"How?"

"He asked me if he'd seen me around and I told him I didn't think so. Then I left."

"Did he follow you?"

"Yes."

"And then what happened?"

"He followed me into the alley and he told me that he'd seen me with Brian in Babylon. He asked me if Brian was my type and I said no. Then I asked him if Brian was his type and he said no, that Brian had come onto him but he hadn't fallen for it because he knew the only thing Brian wanted was to use you and throw you away. Then I asked him who was his type and he kissed me and suggested that we go back to my place."

"Did you know that Mr. Taylor was seventeen?"

"No."

"When did you find out that he was seventeen?"

"When we got back to my place and were having sex."

"Why did he tell you then?"

"He told me we had to hurry because he had a curfew and then he told me that he was still in school, that he was only seventeen and that the last guy he'd been with, his father had had arrested."

"How did you feel when he told you that?"

"I was scared because I didn't want to be arrested. And it wasn't fair because he'd been in a bar where you were supposed to be 21 or older. How was I supposed to know he was seventeen?"

"Then what happened?"

"He said that he wouldn't tell his dad about me if I did something for him."

"What did he want you to do?"

"Drop the suit against Brian."

"Did he tell you that he and Mr. Kinney were involved at that point?"

"He told me that he and Brian were friends and that he didn't want me screwing him over."

"Were you aware that sixteen is the age of majority in Pennsylvania?"

"No. I thought he was underage."

"So you dropped the suit?"

"Yes."

"Despite the fact that you alleged that Mr. Kinney abused his position for sexual favors?"

"Yes. I didn't want to be arrested."

"Did you check out Mr. Taylor's story? To make sure that he was truly underage?"

"No. I assumed that he was. He looked really young."

"And you didn't think that perhaps this might have been a ploy of Mr. Kinney's to- -"

"Objection. Leading the witness, Your Honor."

"Sustained."

"Did you have any further contact with either Mr. Kinney or Mr. Taylor?"

"No."

Looking eminently pleased with himself, Mason said, "No further questions, Your Honor."

Justin couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Kip Thomas had resurfaced to blow up in his face. Brian had warned him. Too late. He'd been right to have been angry with him when he found out. It had been a stupid thing to do and like his seduction of Chris Hobbs had done nothing but lead to bigger problems.

"Ms. Thomas?"

"Your Honor. . ." Keisha looked down at the notes she'd made, at the notes Brian and Justin had given her. "I'd like a few minutes to digest the witness' testimony and prepare my notes."

"That's reasonable given the late addition of this witness. Twenty minutes."

Accompanied by Brian and Justin, Keisha retreated to her office and tried to get a handle on the information she had gleaned in the past half hour. Wrote down some questions. The two men sat quietly and hoped she wouldn't start in on them again. They felt bad enough. If they had given Mason and Chris Hobbs an opening because of their stupidity. . . Finally, after ten minutes of silence, Keisha looked up from her notepad and fixed her gaze on them. "You two owe me big time."

"Whatever you want," Justin promised.

"No more secrets, that's what I want." She paused. "Is there anything else you want to tell me about you and Chris Hobbs or anything else?"

"No," he said. "Honest."

She looked at Brian. "You, I'm not going to ask. There's not enough time in the world to go over all the things I suspect you've done."

Angry at the situation and at himself, he said, "I didn't force him to have sex with me and I didn't promise him anything. It was just fucking."

"If there's anything you ought to learn from this trial, it's that there's no such thing," she told them.

**10:10 a.m.**

Keisha made a great show of consulting her notes, to remind the jury that she'd not had access to the witness and, in fact, hadn't known about the witness until this morning. "Mr. Thomas, you testified that you'd been at the firm for two months before you met Mr. Kinney. Was this your first professional job in advertising?"

"No. I'd worked for another firm previously."

"For how long?"

"A year."

"So you'd been in advertising for roughly a year when you met Mr. Kinney?"

"Yes."

"The promotion that you wanted, what did the position entail?"

"It was a supervisory position. I'd be overseeing a team."

"Had you ever supervised any other employees in either of your two positions?"

"No."

"Did Mr. Kinney give you a reason as to why he refused to recommend you for the job?"

"He said I wasn't ready."

"Did he say why he felt you weren't ready?"

"He said I needed more experience."

Rather than continuing with that episode, Keisha jumped to a later confrontation between Kip and Brian, one the defense had neglected to cover. "Mr. Thomas, after you filed your lawsuit, did Mr. Kinney attempt to meet with you in order to get you to drop the suit?"

"No."

"Did you visit Mr. Kinney in his office and offer to drop the suit?"

Kip hesitated. Looked at Mason, then back to her. It'd been a brief look but enough to signal to the jury and the spectators that perhaps Thomas was looking for instructions. It'd cast doubt on his testimony. Not a lot but maybe enough. "Yes."

"What did you suggest?"

"That I'd drop the suit if he reconsidered me for the promotion."

"And what did he tell you?"

"He said no."

"So, even faced with a harassment suit, Mr. Kinney refused your offer?"

"Yes, but- -"

"A simple yes or no will suffice, Mr. Thomas. No more questions, Your Honor." As she sat, she could sense Brian and Justin's confusion. She hadn't even addressed the whole Justin-Kip episode and she wouldn't. There was no point in denying that it had occurred. The best she could do was to introduce an element of doubt concerning the harassment suit itself. She suspected that Mason would bring it up on redirect but she'd just object on the grounds that he'd already covered that in his direct examination.

To her surprise, Mason elected not to ask anything on redirect. Perhaps, like her, he was anxious to get to the main event: Chris Hobbs' testimony.

Dismissed, Kip took a seat behind the defense counsel's table, careful not to meet Brian's eyes although he could feel the man's gaze on him, searing hot and penetrating.

Justin's stomach felt weird, like ten thousand butterflies were fluttering around inside. He hadn't been this nervous when he'd testified. Of course, he'd known what he was going to say pretty much. He had no idea what Chris Hobbs was going to say and that scared him.

"The Defense calls Christian Hobbs to the stand, Your Honor."

Watching the cocky bastard practically swagger to the witness stand and be sworn in, Brian prayed to whatever god would listen to a lapsed Catholic like him that the teenager would spontaneously combust or that his head would explode the moment he said the word 'truth' because he had no doubt in his mind that most of what would come out of his mouth would be anything but. Unfortunately, the gods must have been busy with other cases because the little asshole took the stand with no visible damage. I could change that, he thought. But he'd had his chance and hadn't so he guessed he could only sit and wait and see. Looking over at Justin, he took the boy's hand and held it tightly.

Like Keisha had done, Mason stood near the jury box in order to keep Hobbs focused on the fourteen men and women who would ultimately decide his fate. "Please state your full name."

"Christian Mark Hobbs."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Where do you live?"

"With my parents."

"And what is your occupation, Mr. Hobbs?"

"I don't have an occupation."

"Do you attend college?"

"No."

And Justin saw Chris flash an angry look towards him. And Brian.

Keisha almost smiled. Mason was gonna ream Hobbs out come the recess. Looks like his coaching hadn't taken hold the way he thought it would. Four questions into the direct exam and Hobbs was already slipping the bit. It was definitely going to be interesting.

"Did you graduate high school?"

"I got my diploma."

Although he'd been disappointed that Brian hadn't attended his graduation, the one thing that had gone right that day was that Chris Hobbs hadn't come. Of course, Brian had had a good reason for not coming and it only made Justin love him all the more that the man had stayed away so that his dad could come. Justin wondered if Hobbs' parents had kept him away or if the school had dropped a not-so-subtle hint that he wasn't welcome at the ceremony.

After verifying that Hobbs had attended the St. James Academy, Mason asked, "Had you planned to attend college?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes."

"Did you apply to any schools?"

"Yes."

"Did you get into any schools?"

"Yes. I got an athletic scholarship to University of Pennsylvania." Again he cut his eyes towards the gallery.

Brian made himself sit still and not respond in any way. Keisha had told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to antagonize the witness while he was on the stand, that it would only make them look bad if he did. So, he kept his face expressionless. He hoped.

"What sport do you play, Mr. Hobbs?"

"Football."

"You were on the football team at St. James, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Which position did you play?"

"Wide receiver."

"How many years did you play football at St. James?"

"All four."

"Besides football, did you have any other extra-curricular activities?"

"No. Football kept me pretty busy."

Not busy enough, thought Brian.

"Mr. Hobbs, you have been charged with assaulting one Justin Taylor. Did you know Mr. Taylor prior to the incident of April 20th?"

"Yes."

"How did you know him?"

"He was a student at St. James."

"Were you and Mr. Taylor friends?"

"No."

"Did you have classes together?"

"Yes. English and homeroom." Thought. "And calculus and physics."

"Mr. Hobbs, Mr. Taylor has testified that he watched the football team practice in order to make sketches. Did you ever see Mr. Taylor making sketches of the team while you practiced?"

"I saw him sometimes sitting on the wall by the practice field. He had a drawing pad with him."

"Did you ever ask him what he was doing?"

"No. Lots of kids hang around during practice."

"Let's talk about the incident in the equipment shed. Why did you get detention, Mr. Hobbs?"

"I was clowning around in class and Mr. Horner gave me detention. Said I had to clean up the sports equipment shed."

"Do you feel you deserved detention?"

"No. I didn't really do anything."

"But you went anyway?"

"Yes."

"What did you think when Justin Taylor showed up?"

"I thought he had come by just to make fun of me."

"Did he?"

"No. He said he came to help."

"Did you believe him?"

"Yeah. He picked up this box and started helping."

"Had you and Mr. Taylor ever been friendly towards one another before?"

"Not really."

"Mr. Hobbs, were you aware of the incident involving Mr. Kinney bringing Justin Taylor to school in his Jeep?"

"I'd heard about it."

"But you weren't in front of the school when it happened?"

"No."

"What had you heard?"

"Objection, Your Honor," said Keisha, standing briefly.

"Sustained."

Mason nodded as if he were pondering the ruling. "At the time of the incident in the equipment shed, did you believe Justin Taylor was gay?"

"I thought he might be."

"Why?"

"He didn't play sports and he hung around with Daphne all the time. Drew pictures. That kind of stuff. And he was really good at English."

A few people in the audience chuckled at Hobbs' proof.

"Had Mr. Taylor made any overtures towards you prior to the incident in the sports equipment shed?"

"No."

"Had you ever called him queer or faggot prior to that incident?"

"No."

"Were you seeing anyone at the time?"

"Lisa Monroe."

"Anyone else?"

"No. Not at the time."

"How long did Justin help you clean the shed?"

"For about an hour and then we took a break."

"Mr. Hobbs, can you tell us in your own words what happened during the break you took?"

"We were just talking. About school and stuff. About people at school. Just hanging out." Chris saw them in his mind, sitting on the floor having shared a soda, Justin next to him, listening enrapt as he talked about Suzanne Shebly and Mary Frances Cudawindo. "He said that he thought Suzanne Shebly was a dyke and I told him that she wasn't, that she was a whore. He seemed like a regular guy."

"What do you mean by regular guy?"

"Straight. I mean, he didn't seemed freaked out by the fact that I was talking about these girls having sex and stuff. I thought maybe I had been wrong about him."

"Then what happened?"

Chris, to his credit, did glance at his parents out in the gallery before he answered. "I started telling him about Mary Frances Cudawindo and how she came over to my house one afternoon to interview me for the school papers. She wanted to know how it felt to be this big football star and stuff. So I told her. And then she started touching me. She unzipped my pants and stroked me."

"Stroked your penis?"

"Yes."

"And you told Justin this?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"I started stroking myself through my pants."

"Why did you do that in front of Justin?"

"I didn't think he'd care. A lot of guys do it. Doesn't mean anything."

"Did you want him to touch you?"

"No."

"Did you ask him to touch you?"

"No."

"Did you make any kind of motion towards him?"

"No."

"Mr. Hobbs, did Mr. Taylor touch you?"

Chris hesitated, as if the words were difficult for him to say. Keisha watched him cynically. Assuredly Mason had told him to play up that angle, that he'd been the innocent victim of Justin's uncontrollable lust. "Yes," he said finally. "He touched me."

"What did he do?"

"He unzipped my pants and then he took hold of my," eyes dropping, "penis and began to stroke me."

"Did you stop Mr. Taylor?"

"No."

"Did you tell him to stop?"

"No."

"Why not, Mr. Hobbs?"

"It all happened so fast. I didn't know what to do. He had his hand around my. . . penis and I just froze. I didn't know if he was going to hurt me or not."

Justin nearly shouted. Hurt him? Chris Hobbs all but begged him to keep going, the way he moaned and groaned and whimpered. If anything, he'd wanted more. That was the real problem, that was the real reason why Hobbs had turned on him, because he couldn't admit to himself that he'd wanted Justin.

"Did you encourage Mr. Taylor in any way?"

"No. I didn't want him touching me."

"Did you ejaculate, Mr. Hobbs?"

"Yes." Two red spots appeared on his cheeks. To have to admit in court that a fag had gotten him off. . .

"Did Mr. Taylor kiss you?"

"No."

"Did he touch any part of your body other than your penis?"

"No."

"Did you touch him?"

"No."

"Did you reciprocate his. . . services?"

"Objection."

"Sustained."

"Did you enjoy having Mr. Taylor touch you?"

And Justin waited for his answer, because he had, even if he didn't want to admit it, Chris Hobbs had loved being jerked off by him.

"No."

"Do you feel that Mr. Taylor forced himself on you?"

Keisha stood. "Your Honor, objection. I cannot protest enough- -"

"You don't have to, Ms. Thomas," Judge Kramer said. "Mr. Mason, you will refrain from leading the witness and from offering opinions about the nature of the encounter. Ask your questions and move on."

"Yes, Your Honor."

Sitting once more, Keisha breathed easier. Kramer seemed to have come to the end of his patience with Mason and about time. The man was definitely pushing it.

"Did you tell anyone about the incident in the equipment shed?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was too ashamed."

"Why were you ashamed?"

"Because. . ." Hobbs hesitated and for the first time it seemed genuine. "Because I didn't stop him. Because I let him touch me and I didn't want him to. I should have stopped him. I should have told him no."

Even Keisha was affected by his words. He hadn't really wanted Justin to jerk him off. She believed that. But the reason why, that was the real question.

Mason was moving on. "Mr. Hobbs, on the occasion of your fight with Mr. Taylor in the locker room at St. James, did you approach Mr. Taylor or did he approach you?"

"I approached him."

"Did you say anything to him?"

"Yes. I asked him why he wasn't taking a shower."

"So this was after gym class?"

"Yes."

Mason brought up an issue that was sure to be on everyone's mind. "Why did you care?"

"I was just making a comment."

"But why?"

Hobbs shrugged. "Killing time."

"what else did you say to Mr. Taylor?"

"I told him we all knew how much he liked looking at other guys' dicks."

In the gallery, Justin trembled, wondering if anyone had ever noticed him looking at the other guys. He'd thought he'd been careful, not too obvious in his admiration. Maybe he hadn't been. Maybe it'd been obvious what he was doing. Watching them play around, easy in their nakedness, with their sexuality. The way Brian was. He never cared who saw him naked or what they thought about him or his body. He wasn't ashamed of his body or of his sexuality. Through him, with him, Justin had become more at ease as well.

"Mr. Hobbs, why'd you make that comment?"

Justin's stomach tightened.

Hobbs' eyes dropped and Keisha watched the jury to see how they reacted to that, if they thought he had something to hide or if he was merely upset at having to think about something unpleasant.

"I used to catch him looking at me."

Frozen in place, Justin felt as if all eyes were on him although everyone was looking at Chris.

"When we were naked. Like he wanted to touch us."

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained. Please disregard the witness' last statement."

"How did it make you feel?" Mason asked as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Dirty," replied Hobbs and Keisha was hard-pressed to disbelieve him. "Afraid."

Rolling his eyes, Brian nearly laughed. _Afraid of what? Of getting another hand job and blowing your wad?_

"Afraid of what?"

"That he'd try to be with me again."

Feeling Justin tense next to him, Brian eased his arm around the teen's waist. Justin's eyes met his and he reassured him with a smile. _Fuck Hobbs_ , it said. _I know you didn't want him._ They both knew who Justin had wanted.He'd wanted Brian." _I want you,"_ Justin had said and Brian had believed him. Knew, even then, that the teen's desires went deeper than a momentary lust. And it had frightened him. That someone could want him that much, love him that much so quickly. He'd felt a connection to Justin that had alarmed him. And so he'd pushed him away.

When Hobbs confessed his fears, Keisha had to keep herself from laughing out loud. Hobbs had been afraid all right. Afraid he'd liked Justin jacking him off a little too much. That's what had scared him, what still scared him probably. Brian had told her that he thought Hobbs was closeted and although she had yet to be presented with concrete proof, she trusted the ad exec's instincts. And waited and watched.

"What did Mr. Taylor say in response to your allegations?"

"Nothing. He just kept getting dressed."

"What did you do?"

"I asked him about his nipple ring."

"Again, Mr. Hobbs, why did you care what Mr. Taylor did?"

"I was just ragging him. People did it all the time, ragged each other about stuff. It didn't mean anything."

 _Except that it did,_ thought Justin, _when you ragged me. It wasn't the same. Don't try to say it was the same._

"Did you ever rag your friends about sexual matters?"

"All the time," Hobbs replied. "We were just joking around."

"Did you or your friends ever call one another faggot? Or queer?"

"Yes."

"What did you mean by that?"

"It was just something we said. A joke. Like if a guy took a hit on the field and complained about it, we'd call him a faggot."

"Meaning what?"

"That he was acting like a girl."

"Did you or your friends ever fight over being called a faggot?"

Hobbs fidgeted in his seat. "Somebody might push someone else or something but we never really had real fights."

Here Keisha watched Mason carefully. Would he bring up the fact that on the surface this appeared to be what happened between Hobbs and Justin? And would he ask Hobbs why he'd gotten so upset then over harmless teasing? Why was he allowed to tease Justin but Justin was not allowed to tease him? If it was all a joke, just playing? And if Mason didn't bring it up, he had to know that she would.

"Who started the fight, Mr. Hobbs?"

Looking sheepish, Chris replied, "I did. I pushed him."

"Was it a friendly push like you would give a friend?"

To his credit, or Mason's coaching, Hobbs did'nt lie. "No. I pushed him hard."

"Why?"

"I was mad at him."

"Mr. Hobbs, if this was all in good fun, why did you get so angry with Mr. Taylor?"

"Because I thought he would tell. About what happened in the equipment shed."

"Why did you want to keep it a secret?"

"I didn't want people to think I was a f- - I was gay."

 _Almost said it, didn't you?_ thought Keisha. _Faggot. I wondered how long Mason worked with you to get you not to say that word?_

"Why not?"

"Because I wasn't. I'm not gay."

"Do you think there's something wrong with being gay?"

Keisha couldn't believe it. Mason was getting right to the heart of the matter. Which probably meant he'd crafted some pat answer for Hobbs to give.

"I don't think it's right, two guys being together like that. But I don't hate gay people."

Someone chortled behind her. Without turning she knew it was Brian. At least he wasn't shouting. Which was what she wanted to do. Of course that was the right answer to give because most people prided themselves on feeling the same way.

"Do you hate Justin Taylor?"

Hobbs hesitated just a second and Keisha wondered what that hesitation would cost him ultimately. "No."

"Mr. Hobbs, both Justin Taylor and Lane Jenkins testified that you said you'd kill Mr. Taylor. Do you recall saying that to him in the locker room?"

"Yes."

"Did you mean it?"

 _Of course he did,_ though Justin. And he tried to make good on the threat.

"No, I didn't mean it."

"So why did you say it?"

"I was angry because he'd spat on me. He spat blood on me and I guess I just got really mad."

"Why did that make you so angry?"

"Cause it's not something you do. You don't go around spitting on people."

"But you can go around hitting people with baseball bats!" Justin yelled, standing up.

 _Jesus Christ, I knew it would only be a matter of time_ , Keisha thought. _Here it comes._

"Mr. Taylor, sit down and please refrain from commenting on Mr. Hobbs' testimony. As I recall, he did you the courtesy of letting you speak uninterrupted."

Shit, moaned Keisha to herself and she turned and gave Justin a look. Brian pulled him back down and whispered something to him at which the teen nodded and closed his eyes.

At that point Kramer recessed court for a lunch break. For which Keisha was eternally grateful. They all needed a little air. 

 

Brian noticed that Kip slipped out during the lunch break and assumed that he wouldn't return. Which was just as well. He'd probably have killed the little bastard if he'd come across him in the hallway. It'd be worth the prison time just to kick his ass going and coming. He hoped to God whoever had employed him saw the news footage from the trial and canned his stupid ass. Why the fuck had he risked his job just to come to court? It couldn't have been in the interest of justice. He'd known that his testimony would hurt Justin, but was it really only revenge that he was after? If so, Brian hoped he was satisfied. Keisha had minimized the damage from his testimony and the trial would go on. As before, Brian figured the only person Kip Thomas had really fucked was himself. 

 

**1:45 p.m.**

After lunch Mason resumed his questioning of Chris Hobbs, focusing on their homeroom confrontation. "Mr. Hobbs, who started the fight you and Justin Taylor had in your homeroom class?"

"He did."

"Fuck that," Justin whispered loud enough for Brian to hear.

"He's testified that you pushed him first. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you say he started the fight?"

"Because I wasn't talking to him and he butted in."

"Butted in what?"

"I was kinda ragging on Max Freiberg and Taylor heard me and stuck his nose in it."

"Have you ever had a physical altercation with Mr. Freiberg?"

"You mean a fight?"

"Yes."

"No."

Why were you ragging on Mr. Freiberg?"

"I was trying to get to my seat and he was in the way and I kind of bumped him."

"Did you call Mr. Freiberg a faggot?"

"Yes."

"Did you believe Mr. Freiberg was gay?"

"No."

"Then why did you call him a faggot?"

"It was like calling somebody stupid or retard. It's just a word."

And Justin thought of all the harm that had come from words, when words inspired people to action. Misguided action.

"Did you say anything else to Mr. Freiberg?"

"I asked him if he wanted to suck my penis."

"Why?"

"I thought it'd get a laugh."

"Why, Mr. Hobbs?"

"Because Freiberg was a total troll. Nobody wanted to have sex with him."

"Did anyone in your class laugh?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"I was going to my seat when Taylor came in with Daphne. And Taylor got in my face about ragging Max. And he brought up the equipment shed again."

"What did Mr. Taylor say?"

"He said, 'Don't take it out on him,' and when I asked him what, he said, 'Your dick.' "

"Why did you believe he was referring to the equipment shed incident?"

"I just did. It was like he couldn't wait to tell everyone."

"Objection."

"Sustained. Disregard."

But little by little a picture was emerging, of Justin being the one who pushed things, who pushed at Hobbs regarding an incident he had instigated.

"Both Mr. Taylor and Ms. Chanders have testified that when Mr. Dixon called the roll and got to Justin Taylor's name, you said, 'Queer.' Mr. Dixon has testified that he did not hear you say that. Did you say, 'Queer?' "

"Yes."

"What did Mr. Taylor do?"

"He got really pissed off and was arguing with Mr. Dixon. He wanted me to apologize. Mr. Dixon told him if he said anything else, he'd send him to the principal's office and Taylor got up and took his bag and told Dixon he was going. He kept saying the word queer over and over again."

"Justin Taylor used the word queer to describe himself?"

"Yes."

"How many times do you remember him saying it?"

"Three times, I think."

"And how many times did you say it to describe him that morning?"

"Once."

"Mr. Hobbs, do you remember the day Justin Taylor and Daphne Chanders handed out condoms to advertise their Gay Straight Student Alliance?"

"Yes."

"Did you speak to them while they were handing out the condoms?"

"Yes. I asked Taylor if he was starting a faggot club."

"Why did your approach Mr. Taylor regarding the club?"

Hobbs looked a little offended. "I couldn't believe they were letting him start a club like that at school."

"What was wrong with the club?"

"It was like starting a sex club on campus. I mean, they were handing out condoms in the hallway."

"What else did you say to Mr. Taylor?"

"I asked him if. . . if buttfucking," and he winced, "was an extra-curricular activity."

"And what did he say?"

"He said no, just handjobs."

"What did you do?"

"I grabbed him and pushed him against the wall and told him not to mention that again."

"Mention what?"

"Handjobs. He was talking about what happened in the equipment shed."

"Objection."

"Your Honor, we've established that Mr. Taylor gave Mr. Hobbs a handjob in the equipment shed, I don't think it would take a stretch of the imagination- -"

"Precisely, Mr. Mason, it would take a stretch of the imagination for Mr. Hobbs to claim to know what Mr. Taylor meant unless Mr. Taylor told him. Objection sustained."

"Did you believe that Mr. Taylor was referring to the incident in the equipment shed?"

"Yes."

Mason paused before taking up the next topic of questioning, the blow-up on Liberty Avenue. "Let's turn to the argument you had with Mr. Taylor on Liberty Avenue. Did you know that Liberty Avenue was considered the gay section of town?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you go?"

"My friends and I wanted to go out. We heard they had some good clubs and bars down there."

"Gay bars and clubs."

"They come to our clubs and bars. We don't tell them they can't go where they want to."

Yes, you do, Brian said to himself. Every time you call some poor kid a faggot or queer and harass him. Every time you bash someone, you're saying, 'We don't want you here. Stay the fuck away from us.'

"When did you see Mr. Taylor?"

"When he came and stood in front of me."

"Did you go down to Liberty Avenue looking for Justin Taylor?"

"No. It wasn't like I was following him."

"Did you say anything to Mr. Taylor when he came and stood in front of you?"

"I said hey."

"Then what happened?"

"He asked me what I was doing down there and I told him I had come to see the freaks like him."

"Why'd you call him a freak?"

"He wasn't a friend of mine."

"Could you define freak for the court?"

"Someone who doesn't fit in. Someone who's abnormal."

"Then what happened?"

"Taylor said that down there I was the freak and then I tried to go past him."

"Did he move?"

"No. And his boyfriend came over and got in my face."

"Mr. Kinney?"

"Yes."

"Did you know about Mr. Kinney?"

"I'd heard about him driving Justin to school that day with faggot painted on his Jeep."

"But you'd never met him?"

"No."

"What did you think of him when you saw him?"

"That he was kind of big. And older than us."

"Were you afraid of Mr. Kinney?"

"A little."

"Why?"

"Because it looked like he was going to hit me."

"Objection."

"Sustained."

"Did he hit you?"

"No."

"What did Justin Taylor do?"

"He pushed his boyfriend back and then he told everybody how he'd given me a handjob in the equipment shed."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I was mad. And embarrassed."

"Why embarrassed?"

"Because I was with my girlfriend and my friends and I didn't want anyone to know about it cause I didn't want them to think I was gay."

"What did you tell your friends about what had happened?"

"I told them he was lying and that nothing had happened and he'd been lusting after me all year."

"Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor have testified that you told Justin he was fucked. What did you mean by that?"

"I meant we were out as far as getting along was concerned."

"What did you intend to do?"

"Nothing. I didn't want to have anything to do with him again."

But he hadn't left Justin alone. Justin was certain he and his goons had been responsible for setting his locker on fire even though the school never found any proof. And then, of course, there'd been the prom.

But before the prom another incident had occurred, minor in the big scheme of things, still it had to be addressed.

"The week of the prom," Mason began, "you had a run-in with Justin Taylor in the hallway at school, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I was walking down the hallway and I saw Taylor and I tried to stay away from him but he slowed down and when I caught up with him he made a motion with his hand."

Justin's eyes widened. He hadn't even known Hobbs was behind him. That was a total fuckin' lie. He could feel his blood pressure rising. Please, don't let me blow it, he prayed.

"What kind of motion, Mr. Hobbs?"

"He curved his fingers like this," Hobbs demonstrated, "and moved his hand up and down."

"That's a fuckin' lie!" Justin yelled. "I didn't do anything!" Brian stood and caught hold of Justin's arm before the teenager could move away from him. "He's lying," Justin explained as Brian tried to get him to sit down. It was only as Keisha cut her eyes at him an the judge began banging his gavel that Justin calmed down enough to sit. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over his cheeks as Brian whispered soothing nothings in his ear. "I didn't," he said softly.

"I know, baby."

Mason was asking another question. "Why did this disturb you, Mr. Hobbs?"

"Because I thought he was bringing up the handjob again."

Inside Keisha fumed. The way Mason tried, in a subtle manner, to shift the blame from Hobbs to Justin was distasteful. And she knew that for all the sympathy the jury had felt for Brian and Justin, they'd also begun to feel sorry for Hobbs. Especially in light of Kip Thomas' testimony which had cast Justin in a less than flattering light. Which of them, they'd be thinking, would have been able to keep it together under the circumstances? If someone was constantly rubbing your face in the way they'd taken advantage of you, how long would it be before you exploded, before you struck out? Yet, it was a fine line to walk, to convince the jury not only that Justin had pushed but also that Hobbs' responses hadn't been cumulative, hadn't built one upon the other but were, instead, independent, unplanned responses to Justin's repeated harassment. If there had been no parking garage bashing, she might have bought it. How would Mason do it?

Kramer called a short recess and Hobbs returned to the defense table. Justin wouldn't even look his way, he was so angry and even Brian's attempts to distract him fell short. He was livid. All of this shit was just empty drama.

Having given him a moment, Keisha went over to Justin and stood in front of him. "You okay?"

"Sorry," he replied. "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's hard, I know. Especially when people twist the facts in their favor. But that's what it's all about."

"He lied. I never did that. Never made any kind of motion to him. It's like it's a game to him," Justin said of Mason. "Doesn't he care about the truth?"

"Truth is relative," Brian answered. "My truth might not be your truth."

"Philosophy 101?" asked Keisha with a twinkle in her eye.

"Business Ethics junior year." He added, "Remember when we first met? You thought it was one thing and I thought it was something else and it was probably a little of both and something we hadn't even thought of back then. All true."

Maybe so, but it didn't change the way he'd felt back then and it didn't change the way he felt now. 

 

**3:40pm**

Finally they had come to the portion of testimony most of the court had waited for all day, for the past two days.

"The night of the prom, were you drinking alcohol?"

"Some."

"Where did you get it?"

"I had a flask and I filled it with some booze from my parents' liquor cabinet."

"Did you sneak it out?"

"No. My dad let me take it. Said I was old enough."

"When did you start drinking that night?"

"After dinner, when we got to the prom."

"What kind of liquor did you have?"

"Rum. We'd get Cokes from the bar and mix it with rum."

"Do you consider yourself a heavy drinker?"

"No. I usually have a couple beers or something at a party, that's all."

"Have you ever been drunk?"

"Once or twice."

"Are you a recreational drug user?"

"No."

"Never smoked pot or taken Ecstasy or some other kind of illegal substance?'

"No. Cause of football."

Keisha contained herself. Pure and virtuous unlike Justin who'd admitted to taking drugs that Brian had given him. He went to gay bars and drank with his twenty-nine-year-old boyfriend.

"How many rum and Cokes did you have at the prom?"

"Maybe three."

"How much rum in each?"

"Not a lot. A shot maybe."

"An ounce?"

"Maybe. I didn't measure it."

"Did you feel intoxicated?"

"No."

"Yet," Mason said, "the police report submitted by the prosecution states that although you were not legally intoxicated, your blood alcohol level was quite high. But you didn't notice any effects?"

"No."

She admired his style. To introduce an element of doubt about Hobbs' reasoning abilities regarding that night despite his client's insistence that he was sober. See, Mason was saying, my client was drunk and didn't even know it. So he might have acted without thinking as well.

"Prior to Mr. Kinney's arrival, did you see Mr. Taylor at the prom?"

"Yes."

"Did you speak to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was trying to enjoy myself. I didn't want to think about Taylor. I just wanted to dance with Lisa and make out and have a good time."

"Did you see Mr. Kinney arrive at the prom?"

Hobbs' eyes narrowed and Keisha wondered what he was thinking.

"I saw him."

"What did you feel seeing him?"

"I was shocked."

"Why?"

"Because Taylor had come with Daphne. And because this was a high school prom, not a gay disco."

"Did it make you angry too?"

"Maybe a little but I was too shocked to feel much of anything else."

"Did you see Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor dancing?"

"Yes." Tight.

"Can you describe what you saw and how it made you feel?"

"They were dancing really close together and smiling at one another, laughing. You could see them rubbing up against one another and then at the end, they kissed. In front of everybody."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Angry."

"Why?"

"I thought they were laughing at us. Laughing at the prom and making fun of us."

"Why did you feel that way?"

"Because of the way they just took over and everybody watched them. It was like it wasn't bad enough that Kinney came, they had to rub our noses in it too."

Brian remembered how happy Justin had looked, how beautiful; they hadn't thought about the other kids at all until they were walking back to the Jeep and even then it wasn't like they'd wanted to ruin it for everyone else, they'd just wanted their fair share, nothing more.

"Did you watch Kinney and Taylor leave the prom?"

"Yes."

"And you told Lisa Monroe you were going to the bathroom?"

"Yes."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Where did you go?"

"To my car."

"Had you intended to go to your car all along?"

"No. I was headed to the bathroom and I ended up in the parking garage."

"What were you planning to do?"

"To leave."

"Why didn't you go and get Lisa?"

"I just wanted to go right then."

"Why didn't you?"

"I saw them." He could see them in his mind. "Laughing. Singing." His head moved as if he were looking away. "I heard Taylor say, 'Did you see their faces?' "

"What did you do?"

"I went towards them."

"And you took your baseball bat?"

"Yes."

"So you opened your car and got out the bat?"

"I don't remember getting it out but I guess I did since I had it in my hands."

"Why did you have a baseball bat in your car, Mr. Hobbs?"

"I played baseball in the spring."

"You were on the school team?"

"No. I wasn't that good. I played with some guys I knew. Pick-up games and stuff."

"Prior to the prom, when was the last game you'd played?"

"The Saturday before the prom."

"Was your glove in the car as well?"

"Yes."

"Why did you approach Mr. Taylor and Mr. Kinney?"

"I wanted to talk to Justin, I guess."

"Why take the bat?"

"I don't know. Except that. . ."

"Except what?"

"I was kind of spooked by Justin's boyfriend."

"Spooked how?"

"He's a lot older than us. And bigger. Taller. I didn't know what he'd do."

"But you didn't go up to them both, did you, Mr. Hobbs?"

"No. I chickened out. I didn't want to face them both together. Especially since I was alone."

"But you had a baseball bat in your hands."

"I didn't really think about that."

"So you waited until Mr. Kinney had gotten into the Jeep to approach Mr. Taylor?"

"Yes."

"Did you call out to Mr. Taylor?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't really know what to do."

"So you followed him?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"I heard Justin's boyfriend call his name and I heard him running towards us. Justin turned around and I hit him."

"Why did you hit him, Christian?"

"I don't know. I just swung at him. I didn't. . . I wasn't thinking. I just- - reacted. I thought his boyfriend was gonna kill me."

"Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained.

Keisha sat, heart pounding, thankful that neither Brian nor Justin had responded to Hobbs. Glancing back at them, she could tell, they were damn near in shock.

"Did you swing at Mr. Taylor the way you would if you were trying to hit a home run?"

"No. It was more of a reflex. I just swung."

"And then what happened?"

"Justin fell down."

"Did you swing at him again?"

Softly, he said, "No. I just- - I just stood there looking at him." He had, mesmerized by the blood that began to run from Justin's head.

"What happened next?"

Hobbs shook himself as if coming out of a dream. "His boyfriend came and pushed me. I fell and then I got up and ran. He picked up the bat and came after me. He hit me in the leg and I fell again."

"Where did he hit you specifically in the leg?"

"My knee."

As Keisha had suspected, Mason went no further with that line of questioning. No one would have much sympathy for Hobbs because of his injury. His career as a football player was over but it'd been over really the moment he'd struck Justin.

"In the hospital, Mr. Hobbs, witnesses have testified that you said you hoped Justin Taylor died. Did you mean that?"

"No. I was upset."

"About what?"

"About everything. I was going to jail, my football career was over, college, everything. I was angry and I wasn't thinking."

"Do you wish you had killed Justin Taylor?"

"No."

"What do you wish, Christian?"

In a low voice that nevertheless carried throughout the entire courtroom, Hobbs replied, "That he had never come into that equipment shed."

Justin looked up at Chris, for the first time since he'd begun talking about what happened in the parking garage, and heard the sorrow in his voice. It was certainly what he'd wished every day since it happened.

Mason, with a somber look on his face, announced, "No more questions, Your Honor."

Keisha checked her watch. It was too late to begin a cross-examination. Fuck! Hobbs would have the entire four-day holiday to regroup.

Kramer recessed court for the day with everyone anticipating the cross come Monday. Keisha toyed with the idea of recalling Brian and Justin to the stand as rebuttal witnesses to address Kip Thomas' testimony but was leaning towards not doing so. She was confident that her cross had done the job and it really wasn't necessary to rehash the issue; plus, by drawing attention to it again, she might be doing more harm than good. Instead, she intended to spend some of the four-day holiday polishing her closing argument. If all went according to plan, she'd be giving it Monday afternoon. And then it'd be up to the jury to decide Hobbs' fate. Calmly, she packed her briefcase and glanced at her opponent. Although he looked just as cool on the outside, he had to know that, at best, his defense had been perfunctory and he had done little except offer a slow guilty plea from the beginning. Even though jurors had been known to defy logic and return unbelievable verdicts, she didn't anticipate this being one of those instances. Hobbs would be convicted. But she remained uncertain about the conviction itself, what he would be convicted of, felony one or two? She just didn't know. Personally, she wasn't convinced by Hobbs' performance but a jury, that was something different. They could be swayed by the flimsiest of explanations. And Mason had done a good job of prepping Hobbs.

As she turned to go upstairs to her office, she realized that Brian and Justin were still in the courtroom, still seated, Brian's arm around Justin's shoulder, the boy leaning against him. Even the defense had vacated the premises, eager to begin the four-day holiday. She saw the tears on Justin's face and caught Brian's eye. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. So she waited. After a few seconds, Justin wiped his eyes and looked up at her. "It's all my fault, isn't it?"

"Are you two competing for the Martyr of the Year Award? Go home. Eat some turkey. Have sex. Enjoy the holiday. Forget about the trial for a few days," she told them.

"Can you?" Justin asked.

"I've got a job to do but I'm going to my mom's house tomorrow for Turkey Day and I'm not going to think about the trial again until Saturday." She waited until they'd risen to leave. "What about you two? I really can't see His Big and Badness basting a turkey. Although I'd pay to."

"We're going to the Munchers."

At Keisha's raised eyebrow, Justin explained, "Lindsay and Mel are having Thanksgiving at their house. We're keeping Gus tonight." He checked his watch. "We gotta go." Justin quickened his steps, anxiety over the trial momentarily forgotten.

"What is it about you Kinney men?"

Brian smiled devilishly. "Irish charm."

"Bullshit."

He leaned over as if to kiss her, then paused and laughed. "I bet your heart was racing."

"Was not." She quickened her step as well. Damn, he was good. 

 

Despite having picked up Gus and taken him home, Justin found himself unable to shake the events of the day. Listening to Chris Hobbs testify, watching Mason and his client twist everything that had happened between them into some kind of grotesque parody of the truth, had made him feel nauseous and the feeling still hadn't passed hours later. Brian, sensing that he needed some time alone, tried to keep Gus occupied but the baby was dead set on playing with Pooh and wouldn't satisfy himself with his Da da. Every time he managed to escape Brian's arms, he headed for the bedroom where Justin lay calling out to the teenager. Finally Justin got up and came into the living room and sat where Gus could see him and occasionally touch him or get Justin to respond to him in some fashion.

Brian could tell the teenager was exhausted and not in the mood to play. "I can take him over to Deb's." But Justin shook his head. "You hungry?" Again the head shake. "Tell me what to do."

"Nothing. There's nothing you can do unless you can go back in time and keep me from being such an idiot."

"If I could do that, don't you think I would have used it for myself? Fuck, like I wanted the whole world to find out about Kip." He laughed even though it was far from funny. "What the fuck was I thinking?"

"I think your dick was doing all the thinking at the time," Justin grumbled.

Not bothering to mention that Justin had slept with him too, he said, "He wasn't that hot. In fact, he wasn't hot at all."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"I don't know. Why the fuck do I do anything?" Gus brought Beh to him and Brian had to pretend to be the teddy bear and talk to Gus in his best bear voice, gravelly and scary. The baby screamed and ran to Justin, held onto his knees.

Justin thought about Brian's testimony, when he'd told the court how they met and what he'd been thinking at the time. "Did you really mean it when you said you thought I was beautiful and pure and innocent?"

"Not anymore," grinned Brian.

"You know what I mean," Justin said.

After a moment, Brian replied, "Yeah. I did."

When Gus finally released him, Justin went over and sat next to Brian and laid his head upon his shoulder. 

 

**Thursday, November 22nd**

As he did whenever he stayed with Brian and Justin, Gus woke a little disconcerted, looking around for familiar objects and finding none. However, each time, just as he was about to cry, he would see his Da da, or sometimes Pooh, and he'd remember being with them even if he didn't remember being at the loft. Usually he'd reach out and tug on one of them until the grown-up awoke, most of the time Brian. Or, at least, it felt that way to him. And what a wonderful way to wake up, a tiny fist entwined in his hair, as it was invariably Brian's hair that the baby got hold of and pulled. Thanksgiving morning was no exception.

Brian woke with a start, the baby tugging on his hair. "Ow!" Grumbled, "God- -"

"Brian," warned Justin, having awakened with Brian's cry.

"It's not your fu- - it's not your hair." After he disengaged the baby's hand, Brian turned over to meet Gus' grinning face.

"Least it's not your- -"

"Don't give him any ideas," he said, looking across Gus' head.

Justin smirked. "It's giving me ideas." He leaned over and kissed first the man and then the baby.

Rolling onto his back, Brian lifted Gus in the air while the toddler giggled. "Well, he's awake now so our window of opportunity is gone for, at least, three hours."

"And then we have to go to Lindsay's for dinner."

Visions of sweetness and light darkened Brian's features. "Can't we just drop him off and go out for Thanksgiving?"

Throwing back the covers, Justin replied, "No." Tottered into the bathroom.

"Da da," said Gus.

"What?" asked Brian, lowering the baby for a kiss.

Gus reached for Brian's hair and laughed. "Da da."

"No." Brian cradled the baby in his arms and stood, carried him into the bathroom after Justin. Again Gus reached for his hair. "Stop it," he said and Gus laughed and reached again. "You're gonna get it," Brian threatened.

Justin looked around as they entered the room. "I'd believe him if I were you, Gus. He knows a lot about spanking." And he smiled remembering the last time Brian had spanked him. His buttocks tingled and he resolved to be very, very naughty sometime this upcoming weekend.

Toiletries complete, the three men prepared a small breakfast to tide them over until dinner. Gus was given a bowl of rice cereal with bananas and some formula which he ate with gusto, having inherited Justin's appetite apparently just by being around him. Justin fixed himself a couple of eggs over easy and a link of sausage while Brian downed two cups of coffee and toasted a bagel. They took breakfast at the table, Gus and Justin far too messy to trust to the livingroom although they both wanted to watch TV. As soon as they'd finished, Justin carried the baby to the sofa and turned on Nickelodeon, watching _SpongeBob SquarePants_ while Brian cleaned up and made the bed. It was a small price to pay for a little peace and quiet.

The housework done, he turned to his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear to dinner. He had a fabulous new pair of terra-cotta crocodile print pants from Armani Exchange and a tan sweater that would look fantastic with it, or he could wear his garnet Kenneth Cole sweater with his jeans, or his grey turtleneck and black stovepipe pants…

"So many outfits…"

Brian jumped.

"So little time." Justin grinned from the doorway.

"Do I have to put a bell around your neck?"

"Only if you think we'd have more fun that way."

Brian tipped his head upwards. "Where's the rugrat?" You couldn't leave him alone for a second. "I don't want to have to buy another DVD player. Or a new TV."

Looking back and craning his neck, Justin replied, "I can see him. He's still sitting on the rug. So what are you wearing?"

"I'll decide later." He crossed to Justin and took him in his arms, one eye on the baby, "First things first," and gave him a long, lingering, and proper kiss good morning.

"Mmm," whispered Justin, "morning kisses. You sure we can't. . . ?"

At that moment Gus got up and started towards the television. Brian released his lover and raced down the steps. "No!"

Whether he was talking to him or Gus, the teen didn't know but one thing was certain, there'd be no playtime for the adults this morning. 

 

Four and a half hours later they showered and dressed, Gus included, wriggling as his Da da held him and Justin sponged him off, the water from the showerhead gently misting around them. The two men were in a much better mood, having made love while the baby took his eleven o'clock nap, and they laughed at Gus' attempts to free himself from his daddy's gentle grip.

Removing the outfit Lindz had packed for him from his carry-all bag, Brian groaned. "Fuck no, I am not dressing my kid in that."

Justin glanced at it, laughed. "I think it's cute."

It was a turkey outfit. A modified one but a turkey outfit nonetheless. A pair of brown corduroy overalls (the body) with a multicolored shirt- - one green sleeve, one yellow, blue body- - (the tail) and a red beanie (the coxcomb).

"There is nothing cute about this. He'll look like a fuckin' turkey elf."

"Language," Justin reminded him seeing how Gus' eyes, and presumably ears, were glued to his daddy.

Brian threw up his hands. "I give up. Her tastelessness wins. Why I even bother trying to set a fabulous fashion example for him when I'm up against the Goodwill Dyke is beyond me."

"She's artistic," Justin said in Lindsay's defense.

"She's tacky," Brian clarified. He began dressing Gus. "You should have seen the outfit she wore when she went shopping with me for my- -" He stopped abruptly, busied himself with pulling Gus' shirt over his head.

"Shopping for what?"

 _For my white scarf._ Which they had taken from him at the police station for evidence. Which he had never wanted to see again. "Nothing," he mumbled.

Easing up behind Brian, Justin rubbed his bare back. Waited.

"For my birthday present," he answered, fastening the buckles on the baby's overalls. Seeing it again in court, the blood having turned a dark brown, he'd barely been able to keep from going after Hobbs. It had been bad. The baseball bat, the photos, they'd been bad enough but that scarf. . . God, when he'd held it, all he could remember was how helpless he had felt kneeling in the garage, holding Justin in his arms, the scarf pressed to his temple to staunch the flow of blood until the paramedics arrived. Seeing that scarf again had plunged him right back into the midst of that fear, flailing as it threatened to close over his head and drown him.

"You looked so beautiful," Justin began, breaking through his thoughts. "Daphne saw you first and she pointed and I turned and watched you walk in and I thought, He's the most beautiful person here- - _and he's with me._ I couldn't believe you were there. Even after we went out on the dance floor, I kept expecting Daphne to tug on my arm and tell me to wake up. It was like a dream. Like a fairy tale come true."

"How can you say after everything that happened?"

Justin held onto his arm and turned Brian around to face him. "Because of everything that has happened. You and me. Together."

"Pooh," said Gus and the teen laughed.

"You and me and Gus. Together." And Brian smiled then and kissed him softly and returned to dressing the baby, the dark shadows gone from his eyes. 

 

Ask her what her favorite time of the year was and she'd say, without hesitation, fall. Although spring was supposed to be full of new beginnings, to her it was actually fall; she supposed it was because she was a teacher that she felt that way. Autumn meant a new school year, new faces, new ideas. Of course, now fall meant Gus too; even though, technically, he was born in late summer, she always thought of him as an autumnal child. Sprinkling the last of the dried leaves upon the table, she surveyed her handiwork. Perfect.

This would be their first real Thanksgiving as a family. Last year, although she and Mel had celebrated the holiday, Brian had steadfastly refused to come, preferring to remain home, alone. This year, not only was he attending but the whole gang was showing up as well and, even better, Brian was coming with Justin. Despite having wished for it, maybe even foreseen it, the reality of their being together never failed to amaze and please her. She smiled, imagining the two of them arriving with Gus, the baby giggling with Da da and Pooh. Nothing Justin or any of them did could convince the baby to call him anything but Pooh. She could hear Justin saying exasperatingly but amused too, "Justin. Say Justin, Gus." And Gus, on cue, would reply, "Pooh," just as stubborn as his daddy when it came to getting his way. Justin might as well give up. But he was persistent too. He had pursued Brian beyond all logic and good sense and won him, won his love and, most importantly, his respect. That's what most people failed to realize: that Brian respected Justin. If not as a complete equal, then as equal as the man would ever admit anyone was compared to him. He did have a high opinion of himself. Mostly deserved.

Mel touched the flowers of the cornucopia centerpiece as if to convince herself of their authenticity. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Aware that saying the wrong thing had the potential of killing the day's mood before the festivities had even begun, Lindz trod carefully. "I was just thinking how far he's come. How far all of us have come."

She had to admit the veracity of that statement. "I suppose. He's only an asshole sixty percent of the time now."

"Mel. . ."

In mock defeat, Melanie raised her hands. "Okay, okay. Fifty percent. That's my final offer."

Taking Mel into her arms, Lindz said, "I accept, counselor."

The two women kissed for a moment wishing they'd made better use of their baby-free time this morning than just to cook.

Mel nuzzled Lindsay's neck. "You think Papa Bear could be persuaded to keep Baby Bear for one more night?"

"If you ask nicely."

She groaned. "Oh, well. . ." 

 

As they drove over to the Munchers (God, he had to stop thinking of them as that. It was totally Brian's fault.), Justin sat in the back with Gus and couldn't believe how excited he was just to be going to dinner. But it wasn't just any old dinner, it was Thanksgiving dinner, the first- - well, second if you counted Gus' birthday party- - real formal, family gathering he'd gone to with Brian, that they'd gone to as a couple. Looking up front at his lover who seemed preoccupied with the holiday traffic, Justin thought, _This is gonna be almost perfect._ Almost because Rennie and Xavier had each gone home and Daphne was having dinner at her grandparents'.

Things had gotten back to normal between him and Xavier. Well, if not entirely normal, at least it seemed as if most of the weirdness was over. And the best part was Brian hadn't picked up on a thing. Which was beneficial to all involved. Justin couldn't begin to imagine what might have happened if Brian had begun to suspect- - _Suspect what?_ he asked himself. Only, he knew the answer. Glancing down to find the baby's hazel eyes watching him, Justin put all thoughts of Xavier from his mind. "Hey, Gus. Hey. Hello, Gus."

"Pooh." Gus clapped his hands, pleased with himself.

"Justin. Say it, Gus. Justin. Ju-stin."

"Pooh."

The teen gave up. For now. "Fine. Pooh."

Gus called to Brian. "Da da!"

"What?"

"Hey!" He was just learning how to say that word and Brian looked forward to hearing it ad nauseum.

"Hey."

"Pooh. Pooh."

"I see him," he replied, looking up in the rearview mirror.

"So," Justin began, "this is gonna go okay, isn't it?"

"Why shouldn't it?"

The teen didn't bother to list all of the things that could potentially go wrong. "Well. . ."

"I'm not gonna fuck it up." He paused. "Unless she starts something."

To be fair, Brian and Mel had been getting along a lot better these days. Once they'd figured out where they all fit in one another's lives, things had gone smoother. Still, they were both type-A personalities: aggressive, antagonistic, assertive, and, each would say about the other, an asshole.

"After everything you put up with in court, a couple hours with Mel oughta be a breeze," joked Justin and immediately Brian's demeanor changed and the teen wanted to hit himself in the head for ever bringing it up.

"I suppose," Brian replied in a subdued voice. He turned down their street and pulled up in front of the house. Parked. None of the other guests had arrived yet. By the time he grabbed his camera and tripod and got around to Gus' side of the Jeep, Justin had already unbuckled the baby from his car seat and was lifting him up. Gus reached for his daddy and Brian, leaning the tripod against the car, took him and let him walk in front of him. The baby was still a little unsteady on his feet but he was getting better all the time. He'd actually made it to the television set before Brian had caught him that morning. Justin came behind them, carrying Beh and the Kate Hepburn brownies he'd made. As Brian knocked, he turned and kissed Justin, saying nothing, just kissed him and then looked back around as Mel opened the door.

"Hey," Gus said as he saw her.

"Hey, baby." She lifted him and carried him into the dining room where Lindsay still fussed about with the table. "Look who's here. . ."

Left on their own, Brian and Justin took off their jackets and hung them on the coat rack in the hall and went in search of holiday spirits.

Not long after, Mikey and Emmett arrived, Ted behind them, with Vic and Deb bringing up the rear. Jennifer and Molly had gone to Jen's parents for the holiday but Justin had talked to them for a long time on the telephone before they'd left for Connecticut.

As drafted co-hosts, Brian and Justin helped Lindsay and Mel bring out the remainder of the food as their guests nibbled on appetizers and cooed over the baby and how much he'd grown and how much he looked like Brian.

"Can you imagine Gus at, like, sixteen?" asked Em.

Deb chuckled. "Christ. Lindsay and Melanie had better start praying now that he's nothing like Brian was at sixteen. Jesus, talk about a handful."

"A handful of what?"

"Trouble," she replied and Michael agreed, nodding his head vigorously.

Vic laughed. "Maybe he'll be more like Lindsay or Melanie."

"What?" asked Ted. "Butch?"

From the dining room, Brian gave him the finger, then finished setting up his camera on the tripod. Lindsay wanted a picture of them all at the table. He wanted to hurl.

"Or," added Deb, "he could turn out just like Sunshine."

"A second Boy Wonder?" Michael said. "Sorry. One was enough."

"Hey!" Justin protested.

"That's okay," Brian crooned, "one is more than enough for me," and he kissed the teen slowly and deeply, ignoring the gagging sounds coming from Mel and Gus' leather bear as it hit him on the arm, thrown by someone in the living room.

"Okay everyone, " announced Lindsay, "I think we'd better eat. Brian looks hungry."

As they parted, Brian smiled and whispered, "What's for dessert?" and Justin mouthed, 'Me.'

They all found their places, each person's marked not by a card but by an acorn with an initial on it that Lindsay had painted. She and Mel took up positions at either end of the table with Brian next to Lindz, Gus next to Brian in his high chair, Michael next to Gus, and Emmett between Michael and Mel. On the other side, Ted sat next to Mel, then Vic, Debbie, and Justin across the table from Brian. The ad exec would have preferred that Gus sat next to his mommy but Lindsay had insisted that the baby be between him and Michael, her way of insuring that she didn't end up spending all of dinner feeding Gus and a not-so-subtle hint to Brian that daddies had duties too. But he didn't mind too much as it meant he and Justin were right across from each other and they could make kissy faces at one another and aggravate and annoy the rest of the diners.

"Before we eat, I think we should all go around the table and say what we're thankful for this year."

Brian sighed audibly and rolled his eyes. Jesus, save him from the lesbians.

"I'll go first," she volunteered. "I'm thankful for Gus and for Mel and that we're all together and we're all safe." She turned to Brian. They all did. And waited. Justin raised an eyebrow.

"I'm thankful Thanksgiving only comes once a year. Ow!"

Everyone else laughed. It didn't take a genius to realize Justin had kicked him beneath the table. But his remark did take the pressure off of them to come up with something saccharine and sweet as most of them had been through hard times this past year.

Brian said for the baby, "And Gus is thankful he has enough teeth to eat some turkey this year." Gus clapped as if he agreed.

"I'm thankful that I didn't move to Oregon because I would have really missed you guys," said Michael.

"Well," began Em, "I'm thankful I saw the light and decided not to become straight."

"And so are the straight people," said Brian.

"I'm thankful that Lindz and I are together and that we decided to have Gus and," Mel added, if not with enthusiasm, at least not with rancor, "that Brian agreed to be the father."

Silent for a moment, Ted said, at last, very quietly, "I'm thankful that I survived Blake. Twice. And that you guys didn't give up on me either time."

Vince smiled. "I'm thankful that you guys aren't sitting around in Deb's house telling horror stories about me," he said, referring to Jack Kinney's funeral. "And I'm especially thankful that I never took Brian and Michael bowling."

Everyone laughed again.

Deb looked around the table. "I'm thankful that I haven't lost any of my boys because I wouldn't know what to do without you. And I'm thankful that because of Brian, I've gotten to add Lindsay and Melanie and Gus to my family. Hell," she said, "we're like the gay Brady Bunch."

Finally, it was Justin's turn. The teen never took his eyes off Brian as he spoke. "I'm thankful that I'm still alive and that when I needed him, Brian was there for me. Every time that I needed him."

Smiling softly first to let Justin know he'd heard him and understood, Brian groused, "Are we going to eat some time today? The food's getting cold and Gus is getting grouchy."

"Like father like son," said Ted.

Lindsay beamed at her table full of friends and family. Then remembered the photograph she wanted. "The picture, Brian."

He set the timer and returned to the table. "All right, everybody say, 'Cheese.' "

"Brie!" they yelled and the flash went off.

Mel carved the turkey since she was, as Brian said, the person most familiar with sharp objects, her tongue being the absolute sharpest thing around. Besides, ever since Lindsay's radical feminist days when she advocated castration as punishment for date rape, he didn't trust her with knives.

For the next ten minutes they passed around serving dishes and gravy boats, baskets of rolls, and the wine bottles until everyone's plate and glass was filled and then they fell to eating as if they hadn't had a meal in weeks. Luckily Brian didn't have a huge appetite because he spent a large portion of dinner making sure Gus wasn't choking on turkey or trying to stuff a green pea up his nose or performing some other terribly cute and amusing but potentially lethal act.

From all around the table came the sound of laughter and love and they remained where they were for a couple of hours, only rising to refill the bread baskets or the gravy boat, to grab the third and fourth bottles of wine, and to peek at the last of the pies baking in the oven.

Taking a break from eating for a while to let their food settle before tackling dessert, they retired to the living room where Gus continued to entertain them with his antics until it was his afternoon nap time and Brian carried him upstairs. Rubbing his eyes and fighting the urge to yawn, Gus ultimately surrendered and curled up in his bed, his daddy remaining by his crib and humming him to sleep before returning below. 

 

They waited until the baby had been put down for the night to tiptoe into the living room and cuddle together on the sofa. A Christmas Carol was on, not one of the newer versions but the old one with Alastair Sim. Brian thought it was still the best even though it didn't have fancy special effects. It had authenticity, he said.

Justin barely paid attention to the movie, content just to lie in Brian's arms and listen to his heart beat, feel his chest rise beneath his cheek. "This was a good day," he said finally after having fallen silent for some ten or fifteen minutes during which time Brian lost himself in the childhood and apprenticeship of Ebeneezer Scrooge.

"Yeah, it was," Brian agreed.

Thinking back to what had been said at dinner, Justin confessed, "I can't imagine what my life would have been like without you. I'd probably still be at home, my parents would probably still be together, and we'd all be miserable. Sitting at my grandmother's dining table having the world's toughest turkey."

Brian laughed. "Your alcoholic grandmother?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, if her cooking's anything like her hangover remedies, no wonder," he said, remembering the awful taste of that shit Justin had concocted for him after he and Mikey had gone out and had way too many shots of vodka. Another byproduct of his disastrous liaison with Kip. Fucking asshole. Determined not to let thoughts of Kip or anything else negative destroy the peace of their evening, Brian put it out of his mind and divided his attention between Justin and the film.

"Brian?"

"Hmm?"

Justin sat up and waited until Brian had looked away from the television. "Can we have a Christmas tree?"

"A Christmas tree?"

"Uh-huh."

"And what else?" Cause there had to be more. With Justin there was always something else.

"Maybe a wreath on the door, and some lights around the windows, and some candles."

"Lights around the windows and candles. . ." Brian sounded doubtful of the entire enterprise.

"Please." Justin stroked his arm playfully, aware of how his touch affected Brian. Even though the man would never admit it, he loved it when the teenager touched him. It soothed him. Justin could see the change in his face, in his posture, feel it in the way his muscles relaxed.

With a mock sigh of defeat, Brian said that he could. "As long as it's tasteful. No multicolored lights. White only. And it can't clash with the furniture."

"It?"

"The tree," he clarified.

Justin smiled. "Okay."

As the teen settled back down, Brian wondered what kind of Faustian bargain he'd entered into with Justin. Truthfully, he sorta missed having a tree. He hadn't had one since he and Cam had split. He remembered going out with Cam and picking out a tree for his old place and decorating it with these ornaments they had bought together. After they broke up, he gave the ornaments away. Couldn't stand to have them around. And when he was a kid, his mom had always put up the tree and decorated it herself, not trusting him and Claire enough to help her. It was always something tasteful and color-coordinated and every year she had a theme. Even if they seemed to scrimp and struggle during the year, she always managed to find money to have a fabulous tree. Even if there were only four presents underneath. Even if Jack was invariably out Christmas Eve 'drinking with the boys' he said. Even if Brian and Claire were barely speaking to each other. Even if- - He rubbed his eyes and looked away from the television set. _Christ. . ._

"What's wrong?"

Of course, Justin had noticed. "The tree," he began, "do what you want with it. And the decorations. I don't care. As long as it's what you want."

"What we want. We can do it together."

Starting to say that he didn't want to, not wanting to relive those days with Cam, Brian swallowed the remark. It wasn't Justin's fault that he and Cam had done it first. Cam was in the past. This was now. Justin was the present and the future and together they'd make new memories to replace the old and painful ones. Kissing the boy on the head, Brian said softly, "All right. Together." 

 

**Friday, November 23rd**

They'd taken Gus home that evening and returned to the loft to spend a little quiet time together when the phone rang. Michael. Brian could tell something was wrong by the way Mikey kept hesitating. Tired of trying to drag it out of him, Brian said, "Just tell me what the fuck is up."

"Jeff did the piece on you and Justin."

Instantly, he was angry. "I don't want to hear about it."

"You need to."

"No."

Afraid Brian would hang up, Michael said quickly, "He talked to Cam."

And Brian paused. He had been about to hang up the phone. Instead, now, he stood frozen in place. Made himself ask, "How did he find out about Cam?"

Silence. "I told him."

"Fuck you."

"Bri- -" The phone went dead. Brian had hung up. Michael held the phone a few seconds longer, then put it down. Grabbed his keys.

Justin watched as Brian sat in one of the bar stools and slammed his fist down on the counter. "Brian?"

"Fuckin' asshole told Jeff about Cam."

"But you testified about him."

"I never said his name. Not once."

Then Justin remembered. "Christ. So what did Jeff do?"

"He did his piece on us. And he talked to Cam. So who the fuck knows what's in that goddamn story?" He rubbed his forehead. "Fuckin' Mikey. Why couldn't he leave it alone? I didn't even think they were talking."

"Maybe it'll be okay."

Brian stared at nothing. "Cam was pretty upset when he left here on Saturday. There's no telling what he said."

Kneading Brian's shoulders which had become knotted and tight, Justin said, "Well, there's nothing we can do about it now."

Although he didn't want to, Brian could do nothing but agree. The best they could do was to wait and watch for the fallout. Resigning himself to the fact, Brian let himself be led back over to the couch where they'd been laying together. Ten minutes later Justin had almost succeeded in taking Brian's mind off of the latest fiasco. Almost. And then there was a knock at the door. They both knew who it would be.

Michael hesitated, not certain if he should go inside. Both Brian and Justin looked pissed. They had a right to be. Only, he'd really been trying to help them. Really. Since it seemed as if they were waiting for him to make the first move, he spoke. "I thought I was helping. I thought if people heard how it was with you and Cam, they'd understand why you did the things you did."

"Maybe I didn't give a fuck."

"You know that's not true."

Brian walked away. "Maybe I had accepted that. Maybe I just wanted to leave well-enough alone."

Following him, Michael tried to explain. "It's not a bad piece."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point? That I did something on my own without checking with you first? To get your permission?"

Turning, Brian replied, "You had no right. It's not your life, it's mine. And if I didn't want it plastered all over the six o'clock news, that was my right."

"He was going to do the story anyway, Brian," Michael said in his defense.

"But he didn't know about Cam. You gave him that."

"So you hate me now?" asked Michael in a soft voice, the one he always used whenever he'd done something wrong.

Brian wanted to shove Mikey and make him understand that it wasn't okay, that just because he'd come over and explained his side didn't make it okay. But what was the point? He'd forgive Mikey because he had to, because they were best friends and he couldn't imagine them not being best friends.

Justin decided to stay out of it. Sitting on the steps to the bedroom, he waited for Brian to make up with his friend and come to bed. That they would make up was a given.

"I don't hate you," Brian said, his voice just as soft. Then a thought came to him and his hands went cold. "What about the Coach?"

Michael shook his head. "I didn't tell him. I know he looked in the school records, to try and narrow it down but he ran out of time before the piece was due."

"Least something went right," Brian said.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." They embraced and then Brian pushed Michael. "Don't ever fuckin' do something like that again."

Michael laughed, held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay. Okay."

"Now go home," Brian said, glancing over at Justin. "My baby's waiting for me." He smiled and Justin smiled back. 

 

**Sunday, November 25th**

As he had the time Jack had visited him, Brian swore when he saw his mom at the door. "Jesus."

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, Brian," she said automatically. Then regretted it. He hadn't been to Mass in years, except for his father's funeral, and didn't consider himself a practicing Catholic. Probably didn't even believe in God anymore. If he ever did. Besides, she wasn't here to chastise.

"Sorry," he replied, annoyed that she and Deb had this ability to make him feel thirteen just by scolding him. It was a mom thing he was sure. Lindsay could do it to a degree as well.

"Are we going to stand in the doorway and talk?" she asked and he let her in and closed the door behind her.

Nothing about her demeanor promised that this would be a painless encounter. Of course, they'd never had one in his entire life that he could remember, so why start now?

Justin rose from the sofa where he had been reading. "Hi, Mrs. Kinney."

Stiffly, she replied, "Hello. Justin."

About to say something snide, Brian swallowed the impulse. "You want anything?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I mean water or something."

She looked around the loft trying to reconcile the way it looked now- - with Justin's belongings sharing space with Brian's- - with the way it had looked the last time she'd been there, probably two years ago. "No," she replied at last. "I'm fine."

Justin had gathered his book and was preparing to go into the bedroom when Brian caught his eye. No, stay, the look said, so Justin put down the novel he'd been reading and sat.

"What do you want to talk about?" Brian asked.

She touched the back of her hair unconsciously. "I wanted to see how you were. How you were doing."

Tensing in preparation for some hurtful answer, he asked, "Why?"

"I've been following the trial. In the papers and on the news."

"I can't talk about that."

"I know. I just. . . I just wanted to know if you were all right."

"What do you think?"

"Brian- -"

"Claire sends me emails telling me she hates me but, at least, I know how she feels."

Justin started. He hadn't heard about that.

"But from you," Brian continued, "nothing. Not a call or anything."

"I'm here now."

He sneered. "Priest tell you to do it?"

"No."

Instead of taking umbrage as he'd expected, she seemed saddened. "I- -"

"You're still my son. Even if I don't approve of your lifestyle."

"It's not a lifestyle. It's a life. It's my life. And you didn't want to be part of it. Which was fine." Having stood near her as they talked, he now walked away, padding across the floor on bare feet. He stopped behind Justin on the sofa, the choice deliberate, wanting to see how she'd react when faced with the two of them, with the reality of their relationship. "You're telling me that's changed?"

Unable to look at him, she turned. "I just- - I saw that story on the news," Jeff's piece, "and I wanted to see how you were, that's all." As she started to go, he spoke.

"Still a coward. Still afraid to face anything. Go on. Go home and have another martini. Maybe one day you'll drink enough to forget you've got a faggot for a son."

Joanie winced. "Brian. . ."

But Brian had stalked out of the room, gone to the bathroom, and drawn the door shut.

His words seemed to root her to the spot. Unable to go she was painfully aware of Justin looking at her. Without turning, she asked, "What did your mother do? When she found out about you? About you being. . ."

"Gay?" He stood and went to the end of the sofa closest to her. Sat on the arm. "She took me to a psychiatrist. And then when she realized I wasn't going to change, she and my dad tried to forbid me to see Brian. And when I wouldn't stop, she put up with it until the attack, until she realized that we loved each other. She's not completely convinced that we're going to make it, but she tries."

Facing him, she asked, "Tries to what?"

"To understand."

Despite his maturity, she could only see someone's child before her. "You're too young for him."

"Too young to love him?"

"Too young to understand what that means."

"I'm the one who holds him when he's scared, and wipes his tears when he cries, and makes love to him when he needs to feel alive or loved or needed. I feed him when he's hungry, and I listen to him when he's going out of his mind because of all the bullshit people like you dump on him. And I won't let you hurt him. Not anymore. So if that's what you're here to do, you can go. Because he doesn't need you. He has his friends and a family that loves him. He's got us and he doesn't need you or Claire or anyone else who's only going to try to hurt him. If you can't love him, if you can't be there for him, or try to understand him, then just stay the fuck away from him." At her shocked look, he paused and tried to rein in his anger. "But if you want to be a part of his life, if you want to be his mother, his friend, then I'll do what I can to help you. Because even though he doesn't need you, he still loves you. Because you're his mother. But if you want him, you have to take me too, you have to take everything else about his life, whether you want to or not. I'm not going anywhere."

"We'll see how you feel in a year."

"A year, ten years, thirty years, it doesn't matter. He saved my life. He gave me my life and there's nothing I wouldn't do for him."

"Would you leave him? If that was the best thing for him?"

"No," he said confidently," because my leaving him could never be good for him. I'm good for him."

Joanie appeared to think over what he'd said and she looked at him, at this teenager who seemed so sure of himself and his place in the world, certain that his place was at Brian's side and she wondered what her life would have been like if she and Jack had been as committed to one another. Softly, she said, "I want to be a part of his life." She paused. "His and yours." Again she paused, the words coming hard. "I miss my son."

Brian looked up as Justin entered the bathroom. He had been sitting on the toilet seat, staring down at the tiled floor.

"We're having company for dinner."

Stretching out his arm, Brian took hold of Justin's hand and held it in his own. 

 

Not quite comfortable with looking either of them directly in the eye, Joanie glanced at her son obliquely and asked, "Did he really. . ." she couldn't say it, "do those things to you?"

Instead of getting angry with her for doubting his word, he replied calmly, "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't remember. I couldn't deal with it so I told myself a lie, that I had led him on, that I had wanted it." He looked away. "Maybe I did. But I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know anything."

Surprising both of them, Joanie laid her hand upon Brian's. "I'm sorry. I wish things had happened differently."

Brian smiled softly. "Me too. But it's okay. I survived." He looked up as Justin returned with a pot of coffee. "What's for dessert?"

And Justin blushed, which let Joanie know it was some private joke between the two of them and she didn't pry but she remembered Justin telling her that he made love to Brian when the older man needed to feel alive or loved or needed. Although she wasn't quite ready to think of Brian having sex with Justin, she liked the easy way they had with one another and in time she forgot that Justin was twelve years younger, forgot that he was younger at all. Out of nowhere she said, "I remember Cameron." Then realized maybe they didn't want to talk about Cam. But Brian nodded and Justin didn't seem to care so she continued with her thought. "I was so proud of you. Even if it was for. . . that kind of an ad." Two men, obviously naked, one of them holding a condom, preparing to have sex. How her face had burned.

"That ad helped a lot of people learn how to keep safe." Brian added, "I wish you'd said something then."

"Your father. . ." She looked down, then up again. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he said quietly. Unsure how long this new reconciliation would last, he was determined to give her the benefit of the doubt, to suspend disbelief until she either proved herself. . . or hurt him again. 

 

After his mother had gone home, Brian cleaned up and joined Justin in their bedroom. Held him for a few moments, strong arms around his slim frame, finally parting with a sigh. "I love you."

" I have to keep my old man happy, don't I?" He rubbed against Brian provocatively. "Otherwise you won't be able to get it up for me."

"Haven't had any problems yet."

"And I plan on keeping it that way." 

 

**Monday, November 26th**

**9 a.m.**

No matter how wonderful the holiday had been and how great it had been to have four days off from the trial, Monday came at last and they had to return to court. But, at least, their testimony was over, which made going to court a lot easier. And having spent Sunday evening with Joanie had lifted a weight from Brian, that he'd been carrying since the trial began. Justin could see the change come over him. After she'd gone home, Brian had cleared the table and started the dishwasher and then joined Justin in their bedroom, in their bed where they made love slowly until midnight had passed. "Thank you," Brian had whispered to him in the first hour of the new day. "Thank you."

Now they sat together behind Keisha in the first row of the galley with their friends and waited for her cross-examination of Chris Hobbs. Everyone, including Justin's dad, had turned out for what might be the last day of the trial. Oblivious to the reporters and the other spectators, they held hands, and every now and again, Brian would lift their hands and brush Justin's knuckles with his lips. He didn't care what anyone thought. Fuck 'em. And when Justin saw that evil grin on his face, he knew what Brian was thinking and he laughed quietly. He'd never change.

Getting right to the point, Keisha asked, "When did you plan to assault Justin Taylor?"

"I didn't plan it."

"When did you decide to assault Mr. Taylor?"

"I didn't really decide to do it. It just happened."

"Mr. Hobbs, you testified that after the incident on Liberty Avenue, you didn't want to have anything to do with him again. So why did you decide to talk to Justin in the parking garage?"

"I don't know."

"What were you going to say?"

"I didn't really think about it."

"But you said you wanted to talk to him. About the weather? Sports?"

Mason rose slightly. "Objection, Your Honor, counsel is badgering the witness."

"Your Honor, I'm just trying to get the witness to answer the question."

"Objection overruled. But watch it, Ms. Thomas."

"Yes, Your Honor." She focused her attention on Hobbs once more. "So, Mr. Hobbs, what did you want to talk to Justin about?"

"About the prom."

"About the decorations?"

"No."

"At the risk of badgering the witness, I'd ask that you please answer the question, Mr. Hobbs. What about the prom?"

"The fact that his boyfriend had come."

Although she'd heard Hobbs call Brian Justin's boyfriend before, she hadn't really thought about it. He said it with no hesitation. As if the concept were natural. Yet tinged with anger. Justin's boyfriend. Putting the thought aside for the moment, she asked, "How many times did you dance with your date at the prom?"

"Maybe four or five times."

"And how many times did Brian and Justin dance together?"

"One."

"And yet this one time disturbed you enough that you had to talk to Justin about it?"

"Yes."

"Were you bothered by Daphne and Justin dancing together?"

"No."

"So it was okay to be a biracial couple, just not a gay couple?"

"I didn't say that."

"Isn't Ms. Chanders black?"

"Yes."

"And Mr. Taylor is Caucasian, correct?"

"Yes."

"And their dancing didn't bother you?"

"No."

"But you were bothered by Brian and Justin dancing together, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"What was it about the word faggot that appealed to you?"

Hobbs waited for Mason to object but the defense attorney said nothing. Chris would have to tough this out alone. "It was just a word that we used."

"To describe gay students."

"No. Not just."

"Can you remember an instance when someone called you a faggot?"

"No."

"Can you remember an instance when you called one of your friends a faggot?"

"No, not really."

"Can you remember an instance when you called someone other than Max Freiberg and Justin Taylor a faggot?"

"No," Chris admitted.

"Not even Brian Kinney?" asked Keisha.

"No." Again he shifted his eyes.

 _What was that all about?_ "Why not, Mr. Hobbs?"

"We never got into it."

"So you only used the word faggot when you 'got into it' with people? Not as a friendly joke among buddies?"

"It was both."

"Yet, you can't remember any instances of the latter, can you?"

"No."

"Let's talk about you and Brian Kinney." She observed how Hobbs' eyes dropped just a little when she said Brian's name. That did it, she was definitely onto something. Something to do with Brian. But what? "Why didn't you get into it with Brian?"

"Because he was bigger than me."

"You only got into with guys smaller than you? Guys like Max and Justin?"

"No, but, he's bigger and older."

"When Brian got out of the Jeep and yelled at Justin, why didn't you run away?"

"I don't know."

"Instead you hit Justin, even though Brian was running towards you. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you run then?"

"I wasn't thinking."

He was starting to sweat. Time to turn up the heat. "Did you intend to hit Justin again?"

"No."

"Did you plan on hitting Brian?"

"No."

"Why not?" There was something there. Something he was trying to keep under wraps.

"I don't know."

"Weren't you afraid that he'd try to harm you for what you'd done to Justin?"

"I don't remember."

Now for the final push. "You had the bat in your hands, you could have struck him as well. Why didn't you, Mr. Hobbs? Why not bash his head in too?"

"Your Honor- -" began the defense attorney.

Keisha continued before Mason could formally object, she couldn't let this go, couldn't let Hobbs have a chance to shut down again. "You had the bat in your hands, he was there, you could have swung at him and finished them both off, both of your headaches at the same time."

"Your Honor- -"

"No, I couldn't."

She could hear the anguish in his voice. What did it mean?

Mason was going apeshit and Kramer was banging his gavel trying to regain control of the situation but she knew she was onto something if she could just get him to say it.

She moved closer to the stand but still far enough away for propriety's sake. "Why not, Mr. Hobbs? Why not beat the hell out of Brian Kinney too? Two men, two faggots put out of their misery, your troubles would be over- -"

"Because I couldn't!" Hobbs shouted.

"Why not, Mr. Hobbs?" Say it, damnit!

"Because I wanted him!"

Like an avalanche silence smothered all sound in the courtroom.

Her voice cut through the quiet. "And Justin was in your way, wasn't he?"

"Yes. I wanted him," Hobbs said again, eyes cast downwards.

Brian's head reeled. "No," he whispered and then the whisper grew louder, harder. "No!"

Judge Kramer turned to him. "Mr. Kinney, you will- -"

"No, goddamn it, no!"

Justin could hardly believe it, Christian Hobbs had been in love with Brian? Had wanted Brian? He laid a hand upon Brian's arm but the man shook it off, trembling with anger.

Keisha said gently, "What did you think it would accomplish? Your hurting Justin?"

"Nothing." Hobbs raised his head. "But I hated him." Mason didn't object, it was too late for that. "He had everything."

"Fuck you!" Brian shouted and he rose and started towards the gate separating the well of the court from the gallery. "Fuck you! It's not my fault! It can't all be my fault."

His friends reached for him, to keep him back, catching hold of his clothes as he moved past them, restraining him.

At a signal from Kramer, the two deputy sheriffs moved towards the gallery. "Mr. Kinney, you will take your seat and be quiet or I will have you forcibly removed from this courtroom. Do you understand?"

"It's not. . ." he said again then returned to his chair. And he shook. So furious that he wouldn't even look in Hobbs' direction, kept his eyes on the back of Keisha's chair.

Sure she was going to be reamed out by Kramer for causing the disruption and ignoring his attempts to rule on Mason's objections, Keisha waited for the judge's decision.

Looking as drained as Brian, Kramer called a fifteen-minute recess. Christian Hobbs was crying silently on the stand. 

 

Brian struck the wall with the flat of his hand. He was like a leopard, muscles coiled to strike and Justin wasn't sure that he wouldn't hit him if he got too close. Everyone else maintained their distance. Instead of going to Brian, he sat at the table and spoke to him in a calm tone of voice.

"Brian. . . Are you okay?"

"Not my fault."

"I know it isn't." Justin noticed that neither he nor Brian doubted Christian Hobbs' claim. No one had.

Keisha entered the room. "Well, thanks for the entertainment."

"You had to keep pushing, didn't you?" Brian said angrily. "It wasn't enough to have an eyewitness, to have the weapon, to have a history of assaults, you had to have a confession. Well, congratulations. You got it. Now leave me the fuck alone."

Their friends were relieved to see Justin get up and move between the two of them. "She was just doing her job."

"Another headline. Another blurb on the news. Another reason for people to stare."

"I thought you were used to that," Justin teased but Brian didn't even crack a smile.

"Court reconvenes in ten minutes."

"I'm not going back," said Brian.

"Oh, yes, you are," Keisha stated. "And you're going to sit there and not say a word."

"The fuck I am. I'm done testifying. You don't need me anymore. Justin doesn't need me."

"I- -" began Justin.

"I can't go back in there," Brian said simply.

"Yes, you can," she reassured him. "You're stronger than this."

Brian looked away as he spoke. "I'm the reason we're here. I'm the reason Justin got hurt."

Taking over from Keisha, Deb said, "I bet you make the sun come up in the morning too and decide when it rains, huh? You're responsible for everything, aren't you? I had to pay $300 in income taxes last year so I guess that's your fault too."

"Don't patronize me."

"Then stop acting like a fuckin' idiot," she replied.

Justin caught Deb's eye and shook his head. Acknowledging his signal, she sighed dramatically and returned to her former spot.

"I don't want to hear it," Brian said.

"Then I won't say anything." Justin returned to his seat and folded his hands in his lap.

Aware that Justin was waiting for him to make a decision and wanting to do anything but return to that courtroom, Brian went to the door and opened it. At that Justin rose, prepared to go wherever he led.

Heads turned as they all returned to the courtroom and took their seats.

Chris Hobbs took his seat and Keisha went around to the other side of the prosecution's table. The defendant looked as if he'd just gone ten rounds with Ali and he had, when you combined Keisha's cross with the tense discussion he'd had with Mason during the break. Unfortunately for him, the only people in the courtroom who felt sorry for him were probably his parents- - and himself.

Keisha didn't pull any punches. "You testified that you wanted Brian. Do you mean sexually?"

"I don't know."

"Yes or no."

"No."

"How did Mr. Kinney make you feel?"

"Angry."

"Why angry?"

"Because he was with Justin."

"And you wanted Brian to be with you?"

Softly, "Yes."

"When did you first become aware of these feelings for Mr. Kinney?"

"I used to see him when he brought Justin to school."

"Was this prior to the incident on Liberty Avenue?"

"Yes."

"Yet you testified that you first saw Mr. Kinney during that incident. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes."

"So you'd seen Brian at St. James?"

"Yes."

"Did you fantasize about Brian?"

"No."

"You never dreamt of the two of you together?"

"No."

"Making love?"

"Objection, Your Honor, the defendant has already answered the question. Twice, in fact."

"Your Honor, I'm simply trying to obtain a clarification of Mr. Hobbs' statement that he wanted Mr. Kinney."

"Overruled. Witness may answer the question."

"No," said Hobbs.

"No, you never dreamt about the two of you making love?"

"Yes. I mean, no, I never did."

"Perhaps, Mr. Hobbs, you would explain what you meant by wanting him."

"I don't know."

"Did you want him to do something for you?"

"I don't know."

"Did you want him to say something to you?"

"I don't know."

"Yes or no, Mr. Hobbs."

"No."

"You said you wanted Brian to be with you. And do what, Mr. Hobbs?"

"I don't know."

"Play Monopoly?"

Titters from the court.

"No."

"To have sex with you?"

"N- - no."

"Mr. Hobbs, you're a healthy, eighteen-year-old man, no one would fault you for wanting to have sex with Mr. Kinney. He's good-looking, sexy, if you like that type- - and you said you wanted him. Yet, you want us to believe that it never occurred to you that this nebulous wanting of yours might have something to do with sex?"

"Stop it!" Chris Hobbs' mother shouted. "Stop it! Oh God. Oh God," she murmured as her husband enfolded her in his arms.

Chris clenched his jaw. Then before Keisha could ask another question he said, "I saw them. Kissing. Standing next to the Jeep. Not like they did on the dance floor. Different. But you could tell he loved Justin. Just by the way he kissed him. And I wanted. . . I wanted it to be me."

"Are you gay, Mr. Hobbs?"

"I don't know."

No one laughed.

"Have you ever been with a man other than Justin Taylor?"

"No."

"Have you ever approached another man sexually?"

"No."

"Do you think you'd like to be with another man sexually?"

"Maybe." He sniffled and everyone in the courtroom could see the tears flowing down his face.

"With Brian Kinney?"

"He wouldn't want to be with me. Not now."

"No more questions, Your Honor." Keisha returned to her seat and, suddenly, she did feel sorry for Chris Hobbs. Very sorry. Prison was no place to explore your sexuality.

Mason stood for the redirect. There was little he could do in light of Christian's confession but what he could do was try to clarify the main issue of contention between the prosecution and defense. "Mr. Hobbs, did you intend to cause serious bodily harm to Justin Taylor when you went after him in the parking garage at the prom?"

"No."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

"The witness is excused."

Hobbs left the stand, moving as an old man might.

"Does the defense have any further evidence to submit?"

"No, Your Honor. The defense rests."

"Does the prosecution wish to call any rebuttal witnesses?"

"No, Your Honor," replied Keisha. "The Prosecution rests."

"As it is nearly time for our normal lunch break, let's take an hour before the closing arguments," said Kramer. 

 

None of them could eat, waiting for court to resume and for closing arguments to begin. Instead, they sat and watched Keisha have her lunch. Calmly, she devoured a chicken salad sandwich and flipped through her notes once, then put the legal pad away and talked with Brian and Justin about their trip abroad. Finally, Justin asked her, "Aren't you nervous?"

"About what?"

"This afternoon."

She drank the last of her bottled water. "Nope. You?"

"A little."

"Well, don't worry. All you have to do is sit there and look wholesome."

Justin grinned. "Is Brian going to be sitting next to me?"

"Yep."

"Sorry. It's not possible."

Brian pushed him from behind. "Asshole. Just for that, no nookie for you."

"For what? A whole two hours?" asked Ted.

"Please," said Emmett, "he'll be blowing him in the bathroom before Keisha's done with her closing argument."

Craig, who was seated next to Jennifer, looked slightly green about the gills. It was probably one thing, thought Justin, to know that your son was having sex with another man and something else again to have to hear about it. But he'd have to get used to it if he wanted to be a part of their lives.

As everyone returned to the courtroom, Brian and Justin hung back a little and kissed. It wasn't exactly nookie so it didn't count. 

 

Without much ado, she began to speak, standing at ease in front of the jury box. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant, Christian Hobbs, is charged with aggravated assault. Although Judge Kramer will go over this with you again in his instructions, I'd like to talk a little about aggravated assault, as there are two issues before you. One, you must find the defendant guilty or not guilty of aggravated assault. And, two, if you find him guilty of aggravated assault, you must determine the grade of the assault, if it is a felony of the first degree or of the second degree. Two issues: guilty or not guilty and if guilty, is it a first degree felony or a second degree felony?

"A person is guilty of aggravated assault of the second degree if he attempts to cause or intentionally or knowingly causes bodily injury to another with a deadly weapon. There are other instances in which aggravated assault of the second degree can occur, mostly dealing with assaults against police officers, firefighters, parole officers, etc., but those don't concern us today. So knowingly causing bodily harm to another with a deadly weapon constitutes felony two aggravated assault. Now let's turn to the felony one grading.

"A person is guilty of felony one aggravated assault if he attempts or causes serious bodily injury to another, or causes such injury intentionally, knowingly or recklessly under circumstances manifesting extreme indifference to the value of human life. Even employing the relatively neutral wording of the law, you can hear differences between the two degrees. Bodily injury to another with a deadly weapon versus serious bodily injury and manifesting extreme indifference to the value of human life. There are two issues for you to consider. First, did the injuries Justin Taylor sustain constitute serious bodily injury? Second, did Christian Hobbs' actions reveal an extreme indifference to the value of Justin Taylor's life?

"On the first issue, we had the testimony of the emergency room doctor and the neurosurgeon who consulted on Justin Taylor's case…" Keisha went on to recap succinctly each of the physicians' testimony, highlighting relevant facts. "Both Dr. Gates and Dr. Winchell testified that without immediate medical attention, Justin Taylor would most certainly have either died or sustained severe and permanent brain injury." Using the testimony of the first officers on the scene, the EMS workers, and the lab technicians, Keisha underscored the idea that Justin's condition after the attack constituted serious bodily injury. From there she moved on to issue number two.

"Now, to the second issue. Did Christian Hobbs' actions manifest an extreme indifference to the value of Justin Taylor's life? This is a thornier issue to tackle because it speaks to intention and motive. In the absence of a confession, we have to infer from the defendant's actions as to his intentions and motives. To that end, the people outlined a chronology of run-ins and altercations between the defendant and his victim, Justin Taylor, arguing that these incidents culminated in the attack in the parking garage on April 20th, by which time the defendant intended to cause serious bodily injury to Mr. Taylor. Why did Christian Hobbs single out Justin Taylor to harass? Because he was gay. And because Justin Taylor had initiated a sexual encounter with Christian Hobbs, an encounter which Mr. Hobbs has said that he did not want, but one which he did not break off or resist." In graphic terms, Keisha detailed the encounter in the equipment shed, making certain to emphasize Christian Hobbs' testimony, to emphasize his discomfort, his confusion, and his anger over what he saw as an unwanted advance. She also brought up Justin's relationship with Brian, implying that Justin's actions were a direct result of his sexual experimentation with the older man and, perhaps, influenced by Brian's subsequent rejection of him. It was a delicate balance to strike, bringing Justin's homosexuality to the forefront and acknowledging that he went after Hobbs, acknowledging that this encounter might have contributed to Christian's behavior, while making it clear that Justin was not culpable for his attack, that Hobbs' actions were entirely inexcusable.

After going over the encounter in detention, Keisha went through the series of altercations between the teenagers one by one, from the fight in the locker room to the week of the prom when Hobbs pushed Justin down in the hallway. Incident by incident she painted a picture of an angry young man, a violent young man who used hateful words and physical means to harass and torment his victim. "But words like cocksucker, faggot, queer, and cunt weren't enough for Mr. Hobbs. In each and every incident, Christian Hobbs resorted to physical violence as well. In not one of their encounters did Justin Taylor escape unscathed. In addition to being called offensive names, he was pushed, shoved, and struck, not once, but multiple times."

Although he'd witnessed all of the testimony, had been there when the incidents occurred, when Keisha brought it together like that, concentrated in a half hour's time span, Justin wondered how he'd ever survived. He supposed it was because they had been spaced out over months and that for weeks at a time he and Hobbs managed to stay out of each other's way. Not that the arguments and fights they'd had hadn't been enough, but he guessed it could have been worse. Until the final altercation. Involuntarily he reached up and touched the scar on his forehead.

She had come to the most important incident in the chronology: the prom. Taking a moment, and a sip of water, Keisha stationed herself once more in front of the jury box. She reminded them of the circumstances, of how Justin had asked Brian to the prom and Brian had refused. Told them how, miraculously, Brian had shown up at the prom like the hero in a movie. Described, using Brian and Justin and Daphne's words, their sole and solitary dance. "It was amazing," she said, as Daphne had said more than once. "They were amazing. Two lovers sharing a moment that would never again be repeated."

Leaving the prom itself, she followed the two men to the parking garage where they intended to part but for a while, having made plans to meet later. "As Brian watched Justin walk away in the side mirror, he finally admitted to himself that he loved the younger man. And then, he watched, horrified, as Christian Hobbs stalked his young lover." She vividly recalled for the jury the tense and anguish-filled moments between the time Brian spotted Christian Hobbs and the arrival of the paramedics. "Mr. Kinney got out of his Jeep and called to Justin, to warn him, but it was too late. Christian Hobbs had already made up his mind to strike Justin. He'd made up his mind to attack Justin the moment he left the prom. And why? Why now? Because Christian Hobbs was angry, angry that Justin had dared to dance with his lover at the prom. But other students were probably angry as well. We heard testimony from two defense witnesses who said that they were angry that Brian showed up at the prom. However, two things separated them from Christian Hobbs. One, they didn't have a history of altercations with Justin Taylor. And, two, they didn't harbor a secret desire for Justin Taylor's lover. Mr. Hobbs confessed, on this very witness stand, that he 'wanted' Brian Kinney. That he hated Justin Taylor because Justin had Brian. And because of that hatred, he struck Justin Taylor in the temple with a baseball bat, seriously injuring him, very nearly killing him. Did the defendant show any remorse for this crime? No. In the hospital, where both he and Justin Taylor were being treated, the defendant shouted, 'I hope he dies.'

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, on April 20th of this year, a serious crime was committed. We believe the People has shown beyond any reasonable doubt that the defendant, Christian Hobbs, attacked Justin Taylor and caused serious bodily injury. We believe that we have shown that his actions manifested extreme indifference to the value of human life, to the value of Justin Taylor's life. As such, we ask that on the charge of aggravated assault of the first degree you return a verdict of guilty. Thank you."

Even if they'd held on to some shred of hope during the trial, even Hobbs' parents had to have felt less than confident once Keisha finished her closing arguments. She had logically, concisely, and without resorting to hyperbole or fanciful language, stated the facts of the case and put forth the prosecution's theory of the case.

Brian thought they'd been right on the money when they'd nicknamed her Mace. The defense attorney had his work cut out for him.

"We will now hear the defense's argument," Kramer informed the court.

"May it please the court and ladies and gentlemen of the jury, both the prosecution and I agree that something occurred on the night of April 20th. There is no doubt that Justin Taylor was injured with a baseball bat. There is no doubt that my client, Christian Hobbs, was in possession of said bat and that he did strike Mr. Taylor. However, that is where our agreement ends. Now, bear with me, but I'm going to repeat the definition of aggravated assault. A person is guilty of aggravated assault if he attempts to cause serious bodily injury to another, or causes such injury intentionally, knowingly, or recklessly under circumstances manifesting extreme indifference to the value of human life. That's a first-degree felony offense. A person is guilty of aggravated assault if he attempts to cause or intentionally or knowingly causes bodily injury to another with a deadly weapon. That is a second-degree felony offense. It is the defense's position that the prosecution has not proven any of the conditions under which a felony one conviction could occur."

From where she sat, Keisha watched as Mason argued for a second-degree felony conviction. With the preponderance of evidence, it was the most he could do. If he could have, he would have certainly argued for the jury to find Hobbs innocent; however, under the circumstances, he'd do well to get them to agree to the lesser charge.

Like she had, Mason went through the chronology of events leading up to the prom only his interpretation was that Justin had pushed Chris, had taunted and teased him with the incident in detention. And yet, Mason maintained that the idea of revenge never entered into Hobbs' mind, that he was willing to let bygones be bygones if Justin hadn't persisted in pushing his agenda on the school, an unwanted agenda according to the faculty and administrators.

Even with Hobbs' confession of having wanted Brian, Mason insisted that the defendant had entered the parking garage with the intention of talking to Justin, of confronting him about inviting Brian to the prom. The baseball bat, he'd taken just in case Brian Kinney decided to interfere with their talk. Reiterating that it was fear of Brian Kinney which had led him to remove the bat from his car, Mason put forth the theory that Hobbs hadn't intended to strike Justin, that it was the sight of Brian running towards them that impelled him to swing at the other teen. Nothing more than a reflex, an unfortunate one but not premeditated, not intentional.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to look at the facts as presented. One, Justin Taylor did not sustain a serious bodily injury; and two, the prosecution has not proven that the defendant intended to cause any such injury. As such, it is your duty to return a verdict of not guilty of the charge of aggravated assault in the first-degree. Thank you."

Keisha watched as the man returned to his seat, refusing to admit defeat. As well he shouldn't. It wouldn't be over until the foreman stood and said, "We the jury. . ."

With a set of papers on the desk in front of him, Kramer looked over at the men and women who would decide the fate of Christian Hobbs. Many of the members looked scared, as if they were only now realizing what they were here for. "Members of the jury, we now approach the most critical moment in this case- - the moment when the case will be given to you for your judgment and verdict on the facts. Before I do so, I'll give you instructions regarding the laws that are applicable to this case. But first, I want to thank you for your patience, attentiveness and cooperation during this trial process. I, the prosecution, and the defense are aware of the enormous responsibility serving on the jury entails. Now, I want to explain to you the jury's role in this next phase of the trial. It is your duty to decide whether the counsel for the Commonwealth has proven her case by a preponderance of the evidence. You are the sole judges of the facts. More importantly, you are to discharge your duty and make your judgement in complete fairness and impartiality. Your decision must be based solely on the evidence or the lack of evidence. It may not be influenced by bias, prejudice or sympathy. I remind you that this is the duty that you swore to perform.

"My job includes two duties. My first duty is to make rulings on disputed issues of law. What rulings I have made during the trial should not concern you. My second duty is to instruct you on the law. That is, I must explain to you the rules of law that govern your deliberations, and I must tell you the questions you must answer in reaching your verdict. It is your duty to accept the law as I state it to you in these instructions and to apply the law to the facts as you decide them. I alone determine the law as you are to apply it to this case. If any attorney has stated a legal principle different from the ones I state, you are to disregard them. If you yourself have any concept of what the law should be or which law should apply, you are to disregard them. You must follow my instructions. Also, you should not single out any one instruction alone as stating the law, but you should consider my instructions as a whole when you retire to deliberate. You will be allowed to take your copy of the instructions with you into the jury room."

Kramer slipped on his reading glasses, consulted his papers, and began instructing the jury reminding them that the charge against the defendant was not evidence, that the defendant was presumed innocent, and that the burden of proof rested on the Commonwealth. Again he defined reasonable doubt. Again, he defined evidence, both direct and circumstantial and the role their applicability to the case. He addressed the idea of witness credibility and what part the character of the defendant and victim should play in their deliberations. Finally, he spoke to the charge itself.

"Christian Hobbs is accused of aggravated assault in the first-degree. A person is guilty of aggravated assault if he attempts to cause serious bodily injury to another, or causes such injury intentionally, knowingly or recklessly under circumstances manifesting extreme indifference to the value of human life. A person is guilty of aggravated assault if he attempts to cause or purposely or knowingly or recklessly causes bodily injury to another with a deadly weapon."

Understanding that many people wouldn't understand the difference between bodily injury and serious bodily injury, he covered those as well. "Bodily injury means the impairment of someone's physical condition, or substantial pain. Serious bodily injury means bodily injury which creates a substantial risk of death; or causes serious, permanent disfigurement, or protracted loss or impairment of the function of any bodily member or organ. Aggravated assault involving serious bodily or an attempt to cause serious bodily injury to another is a first-degree felony. Aggravated assault involving bodily injury by use of a deadly weapon is a second-degree felony.

"To sustain the charge of aggravated assault in the first-degree, the Commonwealth must prove the following propositions: First: That Christian Hobbs caused or attempted to cause serious bodily injury; and Second: That Christian Hobbs either intentionally, knowingly, or recklessly caused serious bodily injury under circumstances manifesting extreme indifference to the value of human life. If you find from your consideration of all the evidence that each of these propositions has been proven beyond a reasonable doubt, then you should find the defendant guilty of aggravated assault in the first-degree."

Keisha could see a few of the jurors had begun to zone by this point and she wished she could press a button and zap them through their chairs. They would be the very ones who'd have questions later on, questions that might have been avoided if they'd just paid attention.

"The crime of aggravated assault in the first-degree includes the lesser crime of aggravated assault in the second-degree. If (1) any or all of you are not convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty of aggravated assault in the first-degree; and (2) all of you are convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty of the lesser crime of aggravated assault in the second-degree, you may find the defendant guilty of aggravated assault in the second-degree. In order for the defendant to be found guilty of the lesser crime of aggravated assault in the second-degree, the government must prove each of the following elements beyond a reasonable doubt: That Christian Hobbs attempted to cause or intentionally or knowingly caused bodily injury to another with a deadly weapon. If you find from your consideration of all the evidence that this proposition has been proven beyond a reasonable doubt, then you should find the defendant guilty of aggravated assault in the second-degree.

" If, on the other hand, you find from your consideration of all of the evidence that none of these propositions has been proven beyond a reasonable doubt, then you should find the defendant not guilty."

Fat chance thought Brian and his thoughts were shared by all of his friends and family.

"Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, you are about to go into the jury room and begin your deliberations. All of the exhibits that have been used in the trial will be given to you at the start of deliberations. If you want any of the testimony read, you may also request that. If you do ask for testimony, the reporter must search through the record and the lawyers must agree on what portions of testimony may be called for, and if they disagree I must resolve those disagreements. That can be a time-consuming process. So please try to be as specific as you possibly can in requesting portions of the testimony. Your requests for testimony- - in fact any communication with the Court- - should be made to me in writing, signed by your foreperson, and given to one of the Deputies. In any event, do not tell me or anyone else how the jury stands on any issue until after a verdict is reached.

"When you retire, you should elect a foreperson. The foreperson will preside over your deliberations and speak for you in open court when you return your verdict. Please be aware that this person has no greater voice than any other juror and has no authority over any other juror and any juror may be elected the foreperson. Any communications with the court should be made through this person."

The judge then went over the verdict form and explained that the form should be filled out and given to the Deputy once a verdict had been reached. He also cautioned them that the wording of the form should not influence their decision, that the form's wording should not be taken as an indication of how he wanted the jury to vote. "Before you answer any question, that question should be read aloud in the jury room and the evidence pertaining to that question discussed thoroughly. You must all agree to the answer you give to each question. Again, your answers must be unanimous. Your verdict must be the verdict of each person as well as of the entire jury. Please do not discuss any disagreements you might have with anyone outside of the jury room. After you have reached a verdict, your foreperson will fill in the form that has been given to you, sign and date it and advise the Deputy outside your door that you are ready to return to the courtroom."

Then he asked both counsel, "Are there any corrections or additions to the jury instructions?" They indicated that there were not. Addressing the jury once more, he read the verdict form before giving them his final instructions. "When you go into the jury room, you will have the following items with you: the verdict form which I have just read to you, your individual set of jury instructions, the exhibits from the trial, and a copy of the indictment."

His instructions completed, Kramer removed his reading glasses and asked the Clerk to reduce the jury from fourteen to twelve. Their names having been called, two jurors left the box with something akin to relief, grateful to be released from their duty. Then one of the deputy sheriffs was sworn in, his job: to keep the jurors in the jury room until a verdict was reached; and with that, court was recessed until the jury came to a decision. 

 

**6:30 p.m.**

The jury had been deliberating for two hours now and they were beginning to fear that it would take much longer than any of them had anticipated. As Keisha had explained to them, the jury had a tough job in that they had to decide if Hobbs was guilty of felony one aggravated assault or felony two aggravated assault. The differences between those two would be a bone of contention between the jury members who believed he was guilty of something. Keisha still felt that the evidence had been strong enough to warrant a felony one conviction. "But juries are tricky things. Put twelve people in a room together and ask them to make a decision and you've pretty much increased each person's capacity for doing foolish exponentially."

"Which is why Congress can't get anything done," commented Ted.

Not wanting to remain in the courthouse, they'd all gone to the loft to wait for the verdict. Keisha told them there was no point in hanging around because even if the verdict came in soon, it'd take a while to summon all of the relevant parties back to court. Plus, time had to be allowed for the press to return. So they all went to the loft and tried to make small talk while Brian and Justin played hosts although no one wanted much of anything. It was too nerve-wracking. Even Keisha had seemed a little shaky. It was one of the worst times in a lawyer's professional life: waiting for the jury to deliberate. Surpassed only be the moment right before the verdict was read in open court. "You never know with juries," she'd said, declining their invitation to join them at the loft. "I'm going to go home and feed my dog."

"You have a dog?" Justin had asked.

"A German Shepherd. Hannibal."

Justin had looked shocked. "You named your dog after Hannibal Lecter?"

"Hannibal, the Carthaginian general. Fought the Romans?" She'd shaken her head. "Kids."

Now, Brian and Justin sat together on the steps to the bedroom ignoring their guests who were chatting in the living room, having helped themselves to the refrigerator's meager offerings.

"What if they say he's not guilty?" Justin studied Brian's face, searching for answers.

"We come home and we forget about him and we go on."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Have to. Can't spend the rest of our fucking lives dealing with this. We've got things to do. Places to go."

Knowing that Brian was alluding to their trip, Justin smiled softly. "I want to go dancing at the Moulin Rouge."

"Ewan McGregor will not be there."

Justin laughed. "You're the one who likes him."

Brian conceded the fact. "He is pretty hot." Kissed him. "But not as hot as you." 

 

Around seven Keisha called from the courthouse. "The verdict's in." 

 

It was nearly eight o'clock when court resumed. The press waited like hunting dogs anxious to be let loose. Kramer took his seat. "Please be seated. The jury has informed that they have arrived at a verdict. Before I return the jury to receive the verdict I want to caution everyone here that there must be no audible or visible reaction to the verdict when it is read. When the jury returns, the verdict will be handed to me and I will read it. Now, any person violating this order that there be no reaction will be removed from the courtroom. I will address the jurors after reading the verdict. There will be some time required for this, and no one will leave the room until a recess or adjournment of the Court is announced. Bring in the jury." He waited until the bailiff had retrieved the jury members from the jury room and they'd been seated. "I've received a note indicating that you have reached a verdict. Is that correct?"

The foreperson, a middle-aged woman stood. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Will the defendant please rise and face his jury." Both Mason and Chris Hobbs stood. "Will the Clerk please receive the verdict."

The Clerk stood and said, "Would the foreperson please stand and read the verdict aloud."

She read the verdict. "Your honor, in the Commonwealth versus Christian Mark Hobbs, the Allegheny County Court, Case Number 9429521, the charge, Aggravated Assault in the First-Degree, the verdict and now to wit, on 26, November, 2002, we, the jurors, impaneled in the above-entitled case find the Defendant, Christian Mark Hobbs, guilty of Aggravated Assault in the First-Degree."

He hadn't heard the verdict, he'd felt it. Deep in the pit of his stomach, rising, exiting his body through the breath he took and released. Chris lowered his head slightly. It was over. It was finally over.

Even though she knew it wasn't over, Keisha was thrilled to hear the verdict. She hadn't been looking forward to hearing Brian bitch if the jury had found him guilty of the lesser charge or even not-guilty of any charge. But more than that, she didn't think she could have borne the look in Justin's eyes. He'd been through so much and even this victory was but a mean portion of what he should have received.

The Judge instructed the Clerk to record the verdict, and the Clerk said, "Hearken to your verdict as the Court has recorded it in the case of the Commonwealth versus Christian Mark Hobbs, Number 9429521, you find the Defendant guilty of aggravated assault in the first degree and so say you all?"

All of the jurors replied, "Yes, we do."

After the things that had happened, the verdict seemed slightly anti-climatic. Certainly it came as small comfort to Brian. Hearing the foreman read from the slip of paper, "We, the jurors, impaneled in the above-entitled case find the Defendant, Christian Mark Hobbs, guilty of Aggravated Assault in the First-Degree," gave him little satisfaction. But he had to be there for Justin and the teen's shoulders rose a bit when the verdict was read, a weight removed from them, one less burden to carry, so it hadn't all been in vain. Still, Brian found it hard to be happy.

He stood by Justin as he and Keisha addressed the press for the first and last time together in front of the courthouse, answering their questions with a grace the journalists lacked entirely.

"Justin, how do you feel about the verdict?"

Somberly, he answered, "I think it was the right one."

"Are you looking forward to the sentencing?"

Brian rolled his eyes. What a jerk. Did he think Justin ever wanted to see Chris Hobbs again? Even to see him get put away?

"Not really," Justin replied.

"What do you think the judge will give Hobbs?" someone asked.

"If I knew that," Keisha said, "I'd be the judge instead of Kramer."

The questions the reporters directed towards Brian, he acknowledged, gave a brief answer to, and then shut down again.

"Brian, what are you going to do now that the trial is over?"

"Go to Disney World," he said and most of the reporters laughed although his friends saw the look in his eyes: they were completely lacking humor.

Finally Keisha signaled the end of the Q&A session and escorted them back inside to wait for Michael to bring the car around.

"Well," she said, "you won't have to see me again until the sentencing. If you want to come."

Glancing first at Brian, Justin said, "I do."

She took his hand and shook it, then, on impulse, hugged him. "Good luck." Held out her hand to Brian. "To both of you."

Brian leaned over and kissed her. "Thanks. For everything."

With a little wave, she left them.

"Brian."

"Hmm?"

"You all right?"

"I just want to go home." He checked the street. "There's Mikey." Pushing through the crowd again, Brian hoped the next big thing would hurry up and come along as he was tired of having microphones shoved in his face and he didn't think he'd ever want his picture taken again. He was completely and utterly over it. _Good thing I'm not a model_ , he thought, _this would have ruined my career. Still might have,_ he told himself.

By the time Michael dropped them off in front of their building, both Brian and Justin were less than spry. The trial had drained them of energy, siphoning it off unawares, until all of a sudden they were running on fumes. As they wearily left the elevator, Justin said, "I wish we could go on vacation right now."

"School'll be out soon, won't it?" asked Brian, unlocking the door.

"Yeah. But you've still got to go to work."

He tossed his keys on the counter. "One of the many drawbacks to being an adult." Stretched his neck and shoulders. "These are the times when I wish we had a tub."

"Stiff?" asked Justin, looking for any excuse to touch Brian. He rubbed the man's shoulders and listened as Brian groaned.

"That feels good."

"I could give you a massage," Justin suggested.

"Too tired," replied Brian. "I just want to take a shower and pass out." Climbing the stairs to the bedroom he dropped to the mattress and kicked off his shoes, pausing for a good long time before continuing with his disrobing.

"You really are tired, aren't you?" asked Justin from the doorway. At Brian's signal, he came over and sat next to his lover. Helped him take off his jacket. Then, slowly, began unbuttoning his shirt. "You should call in sick tomorrow."

"Can't," Brian said, letting the teen undress him. "Too much to do. I'm three weeks behind, the Latham people rejected Bob and Brad's proposal, and I've got to come up with a new one before Christmas. And catch up on all the other accounts I manage. I'll probably have to go in early and leave late. Every day until the holidays."

As he pushed Brian back onto the bed and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, Justin pointed out to him that he was only one man. "And despite evidence to the contrary, you're not Superman."

"That's not what you said this past weekend," Brian grinned. But that's all he could do. Fooling around was definitely not in their immediate future.

Having removed everything except for Brian's briefs, Justin held out his hand and pulled the older man up. Then threw back the covers and got him beneath them. "Forget the shower." He kissed Brian's forehead. " 'night."

" 'night, baby."

With a final backwards look, Justin left Brian to sleep in peace. Checked the fridge and found nothing that he wanted. He was tired but restless. Got out his sketch pad, opened it, and then closed it again. "Hey," he told himself. "Daphne." No one had probably called her about the verdict, so he dialed her number and got her machine. "Hey, Daph. The verdict is in. Guilty of felony one assault. Talk to you later. Bye." He really wished she'd been home. "Shit." He wondered if anyone had told Rennie and Xavier although they'd probably seen the news. So he dialed Xavier's cell."Hey."

"J. I heard, man. You satisfied?"

"I guess," he said. Shrugged.

"Probably still wound up."

"Yeah."

"Look, I'm done in the studio. I could come over."

"Brian's sleeping."

"You wanna go out?"

"I'm kinda tired too." Thought about it. Maybe that's what he needed. To get out for a little bit. "Besides, the press is gonna be all over Liberty Avenue getting reaction shots and shit."

"Come here. We'll get pizza and hang."

Walking in front of the bedroom and peeking in, Brian fast asleep, Justin made up his mind. "I'll be there in twenty." Put down the phone and found a piece of paper. Wrote Brian a note in case he woke up.

Ten minutes later, as he was riding in the cab to the Institute, he felt a pang of guilt. He should have stayed home, stayed with Brian. But Brian was asleep, would probably sleep the night and then get up early and go into work. Brian wouldn't miss him. But he missed Brian. This was their victory and they were spending it apart. For an instant he almost told the driver to turn around but then he remembered the party at his mom's place tomorrow and maybe Brian would feel up to celebrating then. Crisis averted, he looked forward to hanging with Xavier for a while. 

 

He'd heard him on the phone talking to Xavier, making plans, and he hadn't stirred. Now that Justin had gone, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Didn't understand why he hadn't wanted to be with Justin. Climbing out of bed, he poured himself a drink, carried it to the sofa, reminding himself that he'd have to wash out the glass and put it away or Justin would know that he'd gotten up and found him gone. No point in making him feel guilty although he probably felt guilty anyway.

Christ, he was tired. Down in his bones. That he'd found the energy to get up surprised him. Of course, having poured the drink, he hadn't taken a sip. Just sat it on the table in front of him and closed his eyes. Reached for the remote to turn on the television and paused. Did he really want to hear about the trial? What the hell, it was over. So he flicked on the set and turned to CNN. It was time for the news update. After talking about the war in Afghanistan for a few moments, the anchor said, "A guilty verdict was returned in the case of the People vs. Christian Hobbs. The defendant was found guilty of felony one assault. Sentencing will take place in three weeks." He turned it off. Old news. Looked over at the newspaper bin by the door. Instead of suspending their newspaper subscription during the trial, they'd just put a bin outside the door and the guy put the papers in there, so they wouldn't contaminate themselves with news about the trial. Now that it was over, he didn't know what they would do with the papers. Recycle them most likely as always. He had no desire to make a scrapbook of the stories, none of which were bound to be very flattering to him. Still, curiosity got the best of him and he carried his drink over to his desk and pulled the bin over to him. Took off the top and hesitated.

After a sip of his drink, he lifted three or four of the papers from the bin and looked at the front pages. 'Surprise Witness Stuns Prosecution.' "Shit," he grumbled remembering how dumbfounded he'd been when Mason had called Kip to the stand. Turned it over, then decided he'd look in the editorial section, see if anyone had written about them in there.

He wished he hadn't. 'At Best a Whore,' that's what the headline to one of the letters said. Despite a strong feeling that told him not to, he read the letter. "At best, a whore, at worst, a child molester, Brian Kinney has exposed the seedy underside of homosexual life. Here is the man the gay community would characterize as a victim? By his own admission, Mr. Kinney has owned up to having as many as thirty sexual partners in a month, has confessed to having seduced Justin Taylor, to having been seduced himself- - raped he called it- - at the tender age of fourteen, and to having sold sexual favors. Although none of this excuses the actions of the defendant, it does call into question the morals of a man and a community that would condone and even glorify such behavior. Who are the real victims here? We are, the decent citizens of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, for having to tolerate such degradation in our midst, risking our children to the claws of such a monster."

Closing the paper, Brian returned it and the others to the bin, put the top back on, and pushed the container back to its former place. On autopilot, he carried his drink to the sink and poured it out. Rinsed the glass and put it in the dishwasher. Retreated to the bedroom and drew the covers up around his neck. 

 

"So what did he do when they read the verdict?"

Justin paused with a slice of pizza in his hand, "He looked kind of scared. Like it was the first time he realized what was gonna happen to him. That he could go to prison."

"Good," said Rennie. "What an asshole. Did he really think he was going to get away with that?"

"People do. All the time," Xavier said.

Rennie picked at her salad. "He was fucked the moment Keisha was assigned the case. She's like the Terminator."

"Mace," said Justin. "Brian calls her Mace."

"Put your eyes out," laughed Xavier.

"From the movie," Justin explained. "Strange Days."

"Angela Bassett," added Rennie. "Total tough chick movie. I loved it. Angela Bassett protecting Ralph Fiennes. That's the way it really is. Like you protecting Brian." And then she had a happy moment thinking about her protecting Brian and him being so grateful he gave her a mercy fuck. Hey, she'd take it. "So how is His Big and Badness?" she asked, Justin having told them Keisha's name for Brian.

"Okay, I guess. Really tired. He went to bed as soon as we got home."

"And you didn't stay with him?"

"He was knocked out."

Xavier couldn't help himself, he just had to say, "I guess older guys get tired out faster than young ones."

And Justin fixed him with a look that managed to be both startled and disapproving at the same time. Did this mean that Xavier really saw himself as Brian's rival for his affections? Didn't matter. Brian had no rivals, no serious ones anyway. With the pizza almost gone, he decided that now was the time for him to go. Just in case Brian woke up during the night. 

 

The last thing he would have ever expected to see when he got home was Brian, robe hastily tied, sitting in the middle of the living room floor with stacks of newspapers around him, cutting furiously yet with complete concentration.

"Brian? What's going on?"

The man held up a column he'd cut out. "Scrapbook," he explained.

"What?" Justin approached him carefully, unsure if he'd been drinking or if he'd taken something, not wanting to set him off. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm making a scrapbook," Brian explained carefully. He waved at the stories he'd already cut out of a dozen papers. "A permanent record. So I never forget." With that he returned to his cutting.

"Never forget what?"

"What I am," he said. "So I won't ever make the mistake of thinking that I'm just like everybody else." He laughed bitterly. "Whenever I start to think I can have a normal life, I can just open up my scrapbook. And it'll be right there in black and white."

Justin reached for him but drew back at the look Brian gave him. "Brian. . . Please."

"So I won't ever forget that I'm a monster." He searched among the pieces of paper. "There. There it is. That's what it says. I'm a monster." And he picked up the next newspaper and began searching through it.

Sitting on the couch at the opposite end from Brian, Justin began to talk to him. "They say that the view from the Eiffel Tower is the best in the world. You can see all of Paris from up there: Monmartre, the Latin Quarter, the Ile de la Cite, Saint Germaine, the Champs Elysses. . . And we're going to be there, in Paris. Just the two of us. No trial, no Chris Hobbs, no fuckin' Pittsburgh. Just us and Paris. I can't wait."

Hands trembling, Brian put down the scissors. Gathered the articles and letters he'd cut from the newspaper in his hands and wadded them up. But he couldn't let go. He sat on the floor with his hands balled up, scraps of paper in them.

Justin slid to the floor next to him and placed his hand over Brian's. Still Brian didn't let go. Cupping Brian's face in his hands, Justin kissed him, putting all of his love into the kiss and, gradually, Brian realized that he couldn't hold onto Justin and the newspaper articles. Letting them go, bits of paper raining upon the rug, he embraced his lover, trembling against the teen's shoulder, so weak that he couldn't have stood even if he wanted to, even if he had somewhere to go, even though he knew there wasn't any better, any safer place than right here. 

 

**Tuesday, November 27th**

At first he wasn't sure that he could actually do it, walk into the building, take the elevator up to the twelfth floor, and go into his office to wait for Cynthia to show up with his appointment book. It'd been so long since he'd been in his office, he wondered if it was still there or if Ryder had given it to Darren Johnson or, Jesus, Bob or Brad. _No fuckin' way_ , he told himself. Cynthia would have called him. She'd kept him up to date on what was going on at work so he'd known about the Latham account fiasco before Ryder called him to bitch about the mishandling of it. As if it were his fault that the trial had come when it did. He'd done all he could to steer Bob and Brad and Darren Johnson in the right direction before he left work, it wasn't his fault if they couldn't come up with something Latham would agree to finance.

No one was around yet which was good. Taking out the coffee and pastry he'd picked up on the way in, he powered up his computer wishing he'd had time to eat at home. Justin had offered to get up and cook but he'd refused, telling the teen to go back to sleep when all he really wanted was for Justin to sit with him and have breakfast and take the bitter taste of going back to work from his mouth. When all he wanted was to be in bed next to Justin. Putting those thoughts from his head, he went through his messages on the company listserv, deleting most of them as they were either time-sensitive or irrelevant to him. As expected, no one had mentioned the trial on the list, too high risk, but he was sure there'd been plenty private emails sent back and forth regarding his latest fiasco. Putting those thoughts from his head as well, he finished going through the plethora of messages in no time flat, saving only five from literally hundreds. Probably Cynthia had saved those as well, she had an eye for what he'd be interested in. He'd bet anything, she had them printed out and in a folder marked 'Listserv Messages' at her desk. Well, he'd have to wait until she got in and if she had, there'd be a little something extra for her this Christmas.

After checking his email, he went online and read _The New York Times_ and _The Washington Post_ as well as _The London Times_. God, he missed reading the papers. As expected, each of them had a story on the verdict yesterday but after last night, he was able to read them and move on to the next article. The one thing that episode had done was to inure him to the pain.

Having read the papers and finished his breakfast, Brian took out the Latham files that he'd had with him from the beginning. Although things might have changed since those initial meetings, he wanted to start from ground zero and work his way out. If there'd been any changes, Cynthia would have the updated information.

By the time he heard her opening the door, he'd reread all of the information he had and had made some changes to his original thoughts regarding the campaign.

"I didn't expect you back for a couple days," she said, approaching his desk with a smile.

"I told you I'd be back today." Raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're slipping."

"I thought the idea of spending a couple free days with Justin might be too much to resist."

"Unfortunately, the thought of being unemployed and spending all of my free days with Justin was too frightening to contemplate." Paused dramatically. "So?"

He'd never change. Handing him a folder marked 'Listserv', she said, "These are the messages from the listserv that seemed worth saving. Not a lot, just some information about new tax laws (he'd saved that one), changes in the travel policy (ditto), office renovation plans for this floor (uh-huh), holiday leave (saved), and the restructuring of the North American Public Relations team (bingo)."

Taking the folder, he dropped it on his desk. "What else?"

She handed him a stack of files. "Latest info on the Latham account. Ryder wants to see you as soon as you've gone over them. He scheduled a meeting with the folks from Latham for Monday."

"Shit." The pile was at least six folders high and each was filled to the brim. And now she was telling him he had two days to come up with something to tell the Latham team. "Any other bombshells you want to drop on me?"

"The Liberty Air people have been in contact with Ryder."

His heart began to beat in triple time. If Liberty Air pulled out, he was fucked. Plain and simple. "What's the word?"

"He's keeping it totally top secret. No one's heard anything."

That could be either good or bad. Probably good since Ryder hadn't been waiting for him when he got to work and he hadn't made any panic calls to the loft. More than likely he'd had to reassure the folks from Liberty Air that the negative publicity from the trial wouldn't affect them. Even though whenever the firm was mentioned in an article, the writer invariably listed their high profile clients including Liberty Air. Still, it was over now.

"That all?"

Giving him a look, she asked, "Isn't that enough?"

"Call Ryder, tell him I'll meet him at 10:30, if that's good for him. And, Cynthia," she paused at the door, "thanks."

"Are you sure you're the real Brian Kinney?"

Smirking, he replied, "There's only one."

By ten thirty, he was wishing there was more than one. Jesus, what had Darren and the Bobsey Twins been doing? They'd had good ideas, they just hadn't followed through on them. Maybe it wasn't as hopeless as it seemed. He could probably rework some of their ideas and come up with something suitable for Latham. If not, it was going to be a long weekend. Plus, he had to leave at five sharp today to get ready for the party at Jen's. Although he wasn't really in the mood, he'd promised Justin that he'd go and pretend to have a good time.

Gathering his notes, Brian made his way down to Ryder's office and waited until Susan announced him. Gave him a few more seconds to think. He took a seat opposite Ryder's desk.

"I was surprised to see you here today."

"Everyone keeps saying that. The trial's over. Where else would I be?"

"I thought you might take a day or two off."

"I can. If that's what you want," baited Brian.

Ryder looked as if he'd swallowed poison. "I don't think we could afford it. The people at Latham are pissed, to say the least."

"Yeah, well, I can understand why." He gestured to the notes he'd made. "The Talented Threesome did their usual standout job."

"The Latham people came on board because of you."

"Well, like I said, the trial's over. I've been through the files. Darren and the Dynamic Duo actually had a couple of good ideas- -"

"No can do. Latham doesn't want anything to do with anything they've already seen."

"I could rework it so that they didn't know."

"They'd know. We need an entirely new concept. And we need it- - at least the bare bones of a plan- - by Monday."

If Ryder had expected Brian to freak out, he was disappointed. Thanks to Cynthia's heads up, he barely paused. "Fine."

"So you can have something by Monday?"

"I said I would." As tired as he was, he was anxious to get back to work, to put the trial behind him, get on with his life, if he ever could. This was just the challenge he needed. Although the time frame was cutting it close, still. . .

Turning to the trial, Ryder asked, "How are you?"

Brian made a gesture with his hand. "I'm- - alive. That's the best I can say."

Recanting his earlier statement, Marty said, "If you need the time off. . ."

Brian knew how much it cost him to offer. "No. Thanks. But I need to move on. I'll take a couple days after Christmas and New Year's. Once the Latham account is settled." He waited to see if Marty would say anything else and when he didn't, Brian rose and headed back to his office. There'd be no apologies, no further soul-searching. Marty had closed the matter and anything that had been said in haste before the trial began was forgotten. No longer pertinent. So his job was safe. As long as he performed. So he'd better perform. 

 

He'd given Cynthia strict orders to check in on him at four forty-five to make sure he was getting his stuff together so that he'd get home in time to shower and change for Jen's party. At four forty-five on the dot she stuck her head in the door. "You're not packing up."

"In a minute."

She came in and stood over him. "No. Now. Justin will kill you if you're late."

"In a minute." He'd had a brainstorm about twenty minutes ago and was getting it down on paper before it passed. "I just. . . there." Laid down his pen. "Got it."

"So get going. Have a good time."

"You wanna come?" he asked. After all, she knew Justin and Michael.

"Got plans."

He opened his briefcase. "Going out?"

Smiling, she wiggled her hips as she crossed the floor. "If we don't come up with something better to do."

As he gathered his things, he thought about Joanie. He'd given Jen her number but he didn't expect her to show. The last time she'd attended a family gathering, she'd inadvertently seen him and Justin making out in the Munchers' guest room. Despite all their progress, he didn't think she was ready for a full immersion into his world just yet. 

 

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he put down his briefcase and started loosening his tie. By the time he'd gotten to the bedroom, he had his shirt undone and was unbuttoning his pants. Justin was in the bathroom. He could hear the shower. Well, he'd just have some company.

Hearing Brian's bare feet on the tile, Justin had pushed open the door to the shower. The ad exec came in and closed it behind him. Found his arms full of teenager. They kissed as the water pelted them. Then Brian pulled away. "I need to shower."

Justin grabbed the soap. Began lathering him up. "Uh-huh."

Three minutes into the shower, Brian was sporting a hard-on that would not subside. Justin wasn't helping. Sliding his hand up and down the shaft as Brian tried to finish washing. Finally, he gave up and put himself in Justin's more than capable hands. The teen backed him up against the wall and knelt at his feet. Brian closed his eyes as Justin's lips touched the head of his cock. They'd both been wanting this all day long.

Having had an appetizer, Justin was willing to wait for the main course. Releasing his man, he washed his face while Brian soaped his genitals again. Soon they stumbled from the shower and went through the rest of their preparations.

He spread gel over his face and began shaving. "Did you go to class today?"

"Started to and then. . ." Shook his head. "I was exhausted. I did go in this afternoon to see my professors."

"What'd they say?"

"That if I wanted to take an incomplete for all my classes this semester, I'd have until the end of January to complete the work."

Brian drew the razor up over his chin. "So?"

"I think I'm going to have to do it. I can take all my exams and stuff but I haven't been working on anything since the trial started. I need time to do all of that." Justin rubbed his face. He didn't need to shave everyday, which was good. He hated it. Brian, on the other hand, usually shaved twice if he was going out. If he was staying in, he skipped it. He'd learned how aroused Justin got whenever he rubbed the stubble over his body.

"But you'll be starting new classes with new work while you're working on old assignments."

"I'm hoping I can get a lot done at Christmas. The school will be closed but I can bring my stuff here." Added, "Except for the painting."

"Do it. I won't be home most of the day. Just leave the windows open for an hour or so afterwards."

They finished getting ready and were out of the house by six thirty, plenty of time to pick up Rennie and Xavier and get to Jen's by seven. 

 

Sitting out in the Jeep for a moment, the two lovers shared a gentle kiss while their two passengers looked the other way. They'd seen Craig's car in the driveway.

"You gonna be okay?" asked Justin.

"Yeah."

"You look tired." Even Rennie had commented on it and she never thought Brian looked anything but perfect.

"I'll be fine. Long as we leave by ten, I can still get to bed by eleven and catch up on some sleep."

Justin bussed his cheek. "Promise. Come on, old man." 

 

It'd taken him about five minutes to realize that Brian had disappeared. The last he'd seen of him, he was over in the corner talking to Lindsay and Melanie and then he just vanished. At first he thought he'd gone to the bathroom but five minutes later when he didn't show, Justin began to get worried. Without drawing attention to himself, he went in search of his missing lover. Checked the bathroom first just in case he had gone in there and then started with the bedrooms. Found him in his room, the one his mom kept for him in case something happened and he needed to come home. Brian was fast asleep. Curled up on the bed, snoring lightly. Without disturbing him, Justin shut the door and went back downstairs where everyone else was busy finishing off the food and wine. The party was still going strong and it was getting close to ten. He'd have to get Brian home soon.

"Where'd you run off to?" his mom asked.

"Look for Brian."

"Find him?"

"Yeah. He's in the guest room. Asleep."

"Everything okay?"

"He's just tired. Maybe it's time to call it a night."

"Probably," she agreed.

So he went back upstairs and shook Brian gently. "Wake up. Brian, wake up. We're going home."

Groggily, Brian asked, "Huh?"

"Get up. We're going home. You fell asleep."

"Shit. I was only gonna take a cat nap."

"You did. You were only out five minutes or so." He pulled on his arm. "Come on."

The two made their way back downstairs. Jen had apparently made some kind of announcement as everyone was getting their coats and hats and preparing to skeedaddle. After spending another five minutes or so saying goodbye, the guests departed, including Brian and Justin. Brian handed Justin the keys to the Jeep, not trusting himself to make it home. Nodded off in the passenger's seat while Justin drove, stopping by the Institute first to drop off his friends. By the time they got to the apartment building, Brian was asleep. Justin was loathe to wake him but he had to. Finally they made it upstairs, Justin half-carrying the man in and out of the elevator. Somehow Brian managed to strip before collapsing in bed. With a kiss on his forehead, Justin drew the covers over him and went around to his side. Undressed and crawled in next to him. Only he couldn't sleep.

It'd been a good night. Joanie had shown up and actually been pleasant. His dad and Brian hadn't gotten into it. Even Michael seemed to be standing by his word and accepting the fact that Brian and Justin as a couple were here to stay. And miracle of miracles, Brian and Melanie hadn't passed a cross word the entire evening. Everything had gone smoothly. They deserved it after that bitch of a trial. Keisha had come for a while which had been the best. She and Brian had playfully sparred for half a round just for old time's sake and Justin and she had danced. She was a way better dancer than Brian but Justin preferred dancing with his old man. His old man. That's what he called him and Brian didn't seem to mind. The same as Brian called him his little boy and he didn't mind. In fact, he loved it. Loved when Brian called him his little boy or baby. He wondered what Brian would call him when he was no longer a little boy, not that he was one now, but he was still close enough to being a child that it fit. What would happen when he hit his twenties? His thirties? He'd still be younger than Brian, so he supposed it wouldn't matter. To Brian, he might always be his little boy. And that would be fine with him.

Moving closer to his lover, Justin inhaled his aroma and sighed. Too bad Brian was dead tired. He'd just have to wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. He used to hate that word but now he loved it. Tomorrow meant another day with Brian. Another chance to do something interesting. To be better than he was today. To learn. To live.

Unable to help himself, he moved closer to Brian, slipped his arm over his lover's hip, his hand resting on the sleeping man's pelvis. Softly, he kissed Brian's back and settled down to take his rest. There was always tomorrow. Time enough for everything. 

 

**Friday, December 7th**

Beef. As he approached the door, he could smell it and wondered what Justin had prepared for dinner. _Should have been studying for his exams,_ Brian thought. But he was actually glad that the teen had cooked as takeout and delivery were starting to lose their appeal. Or maybe it was that he liked the idea of Justin cooking for them. Opening the door, he entered a land of sun and spices. The scent of hot chilies, oranges, ginger, and onion wafted through the air. Barely pausing to put down his stuff, he peeped in the oven to get the full effect. "What the fuck is that?" he asked the smiling young chef.

"Brisket. Mel gave me the recipe."

Cinnamon tickled his nose as he inhaled the tantalizing aroma. "Christ, that smells good."

Justin came up behind him and encircled his waist. "Tastes even better. Go get changed." He released the ad exec and Brian turned so they could kiss hello.

It was only then that he noticed anything else. Noticed that Justin had dressed for dinner. No jeans and a jersey, he wore a pair of grey slacks and a navy blue sweater. And the table was set: candles and cut flowers, wine and water glasses, the good linen napkins.

"What's the occasion?"

"It's Friday and I love you."

Good enough. With a second kiss, Brian released the teen and headed for the bedroom.

The first glass of red wine put roses in their cheeks. They danced languorously to a slow, romantic song. _Touch me deep, pure and true,/ Gift to me forever/ Cause I'm kissing you, oh,/ I'm kissing you. . ._ By the end of the song, they were kissing with very few thoughts for dinner. The timer went off. Parting, they returned to the kitchen.

"Can I help?"

"Pour some more wine," Justin replied as he plated the brisket and garlic-flavored cous-cous. By the time Brian had returned his glass to its proper place, Justin was coming with their dinner.

From the first exquisite mouthful to the last, the meal was a triumph. Cooked perfectly and carved against the grain, the meat, accompanied by a sweet and savory sauce, seemed to melt on their tongues. As he finished, Brian sighed and wiped his mouth. "That was amazing."

"I'm glad you liked it." Justin was beaming.

"Loved it." Unspoken were the words, _Love you_. "What's for dessert?"

"Lemon meringue pie with a pecan crust." Justin rose, as did Brian, and they carried their plates into the kitchen. Brian rinsed the dishes while Justin served the chilled pie with dollops of mint-flavored whipped cream. The cool, light, tart pie was the perfect counterpoint to the slightly heavy meal.

"You think you'll do okay on your exams?"

"Yeah. I'm not really worried about them. It's the work I have to make up that kind of scares me."

"Don't let it. You're the best, remember?"

Justin shook his head. "Actually, I think Xavier is. He's really good."

"So are you." Brian's eyes twinkled. "And you're way cuter too."

"You're biased."

"Just a little."

The food put away and dishes loaded, they danced a while longer, drifting through the loft aimlessly, borne on the music's currents, twirling in a gentle eddy of sound. There came a sudden change in the music, like being buffeted upon the rapids, and then the calm returned and they laid down upon their bed and let the music wash over them. _Where are you now?/ Where are you now?/ Cause I'm kissing you./ I'm kissing you, oh._

 

**Wednesday, December 12th**

_Why did I ask him to move in here again?_ Brian asked himself as he listened to Justin dancing just outside the bedroom. _Because you love him_ , came the answer. "Yeah," he whispered and put a pillow over his head. Justin had been studying all evening and he claimed the dancing helped him concentrate. All Brian knew was that it was driving him crazy. He'd put in an eleven hour day and all he wanted was to go to sleep and wake sometime the next millennium. Which he couldn't do because Justin was busy boogying to The Chemical Brothers on his Sony Discman. Most of the lights were off except for one over the desk but Justin preferred to dance on the hardwood floor in his bare feet where there was plenty of room. The empty space between the bedroom and the kitchen counter was perfect for dancing. So he danced. And Brian gritted his teeth and told himself Justin would get back to work soon enough and then he could fall blissfully asleep. 

 

**Saturday, December 15th**

Exams over, classes over, most students had gone home already including Rennie but Xavier was still in Pittsburgh, wanting to finish up a piece before heading back to D.C. For that Justin was grateful. Brian had been really busy at work, trying to play catch up now that the trial was over and they hadn't been able to spend much time together outside of the weekends, since most nights Brian came home late and fell instantly asleep and left early before Justin had a chance to wipe the cobwebs from his eyes. And this morning, despite it being a Saturday, he'd gone into the office, determined to make some headway on a couple of accounts. So Justin had been left on his own. Which was probably just as well, as he needed to work on the ornaments for the tree. He'd decided to make some ornaments for the tree Brian had promised him they could have. He still couldn't believe Brian had agreed to decorating the loft for Christmas. Last year Brian hadn't put up a single decoration and Justin figured that was the way it usually was. But not this year. Smiling, he went in search of Xavier to see if he could help.

Found him welding some pieces on his latest sculpture. Watching from outside the door through the window, Justin observed him for at least five minutes. Could have done so for even longer. It fascinated him to watch Xavier work. Because of the heat, he usually wore a sleeveless tee while he welded with a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves in addition to a long rubber apron to protect most of his body. But that left about seven inches of bare flesh exposed, from his elbow to his shoulder, and it was on this stretch of skin that Justin generally concentrated, his eyes following the play of muscles as Xavier skillfully joined bits of metal to form something that had originated in the teen's mind and been painstakingly assembled over the weeks until it gradually assumed the form that Xavier had in mind.

When Xavier paused and pushed up his faceplate, Justin knocked and his friend waved him in. Smiled and removed the faceplate entirely, wiped his forehead. "Hey, J."

"You look busy."

Xavier rolled his shoulders lazily, the muscles in them flexing as he did. "Not really. Just playing around."

"Still leaving on Monday?"

"Yeah. Told my grandma I'd be there by the afternoon."

"I wish you were staying."

The other teen studied Justin's face for a moment, then smiled. "Me too."

Justin walked around the studio, looking at Xavier's piece from all angles. Giving himself a chance to get his bearings. Being around Xavier in the studio always made him feel a little out of breath, as if the air was purer, cleaner than the air he was used to breathing. "The sentencing is Tuesday."

"You said," Xavier reminded him.

"You must be sick of the trial by now."

"I didn't mean nothing by it."

"I know." Justin smiled and Xavier busied himself with putting away his torch and faceplate. Removed his apron.

Justin couldn't take his eyes away from Xavier as he divested himself of his protective gear. When the first glove came off, Justin looked away, sure that his friend would see the lust in his eyes. What the fuck was happening to him? He had Brian. Had everything he wanted. So why the fuck was he standing there lusting after Xavier, after his friend? Brian, Michael, Em, Ted, everybody had told him, you didn't do friends. Not if you wanted to stay friends. Besides which, he had Brian. Closing his eyes, he took a shallow breath.

"So you gonna speak at the sentencing?" asked Xavier.

"I think so. Keisha says it could make a big difference in the judge's ruling."

Checking out his latest piece of soldering, Xavier glanced Justin's way. "Know what you gone say?"

"Not really. Except that I don't think he should get away with what he did. I don't care what the reason."

"I guess you're still a little pissed that it was Brian he was into and not you."

A hot flash went all through Justin. "Fuck you." He turned to go and felt Xavier's hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry." Xavier released him, still feeling Justin's skin beneath his hand. If he could just. . . Just what? Just touch him once, kiss him once, make love to him once. _But would it be enough?_ he asked himself.

Justin moved away from the door, sat on a stool. "He tried to kill me."

"And that's that. Cut and dry."

Aware of the sarcasm in Xavier's voice, Justin asked, "And you think it isn't?"

He paused. "I think people do things for all kinds of reasons and sometimes you don't think, you just react, and it's like you can't help it. That's all. Maybe he's sorry for what he did."

"And that's supposed to be good enough? That he's sorry?"

"Maybe he deserves a chance too."

"Too?"

"You got your chance. To be happy." Took a breath. "With Brian."

"I worked for that. It didn't just fall in my lap. He didn't want anything to do with me. It took me eight months to get him to admit that he loved me. Eight months. And I was almost fuckin' killed!"

Xavier held out his hands. "I know. J, I'm just saying. . ." After a moment he began again. "I knew this guy," he said and he almost stopped there, but he made himself continue. "He grew up with me in the projects. Name was Tony. Man, J, we grew up in a rough neighborhood. You can't imagine. Those anti-drug commercials they show, where there's some little kid having to walk past a drug dealer or to say no to some pusher, that's just a fantasy compared to the way it really is. People got nothing. And I don't mean they can't afford a second or third car or that they have to shop at the mall instead of fancy boutiques, I mean they got shit. Can't pay the bills on time, can't pay the bills at all. Barely got enough to eat. Kids got nothing to look forward to except more of the same.

"A place like that, different ain't good. It's better to blend in than to stand out. You stand out, you just asking for somebody to come along and knock the hell out of you. Me and Tony, we was different. Me cause I was into art and Tony cause he was a little sweet. You know, he wasn't exactly the most masculine guy in the projects. He wasn't no faggot, didn't swish around, but you could tell he wasn't into the kinds of things most of the boys were into. Including pussy. But, you know, he kept it on the down low, didn't throw it up in anybody's face, just went about his business trying to stay alive. Except places like where I grew up, you don't get a whole lot of chances to fuck up. And he fucked up big time." Xavier fell silent for so long Justin wondered if he should say something but then the teen spoke again. "He made his first mistake when he decided that he was in love. . . with me."

"Why was that a mistake?" Justin asked.

"Because I wasn't having none of it." Shook his head. "Fuck, me and Tony, we hook up, won't nothing but an invitation to be killed. So I brushed him off. But he kept coming back, coming back, and finally I just freaked."

"Did you want him?"

Xavier's face softened. "He really was beautiful, you know? Had good hair, these crazy grey-green eyes. I think his mama was Arabic or something. And he was smart too. Did real well in school. He could have gone to college, done something with his life. He would have been a good lawyer. Like Keisha." He smiled and then the smile faded. "But he fucked up."

"What happened?"

"He came to me, like you did Chris Hobbs. He came to me and he told me that he loved me and that he didn't want to live unless we were together and I just. . . I just lost it. Told him I didn't want him, didn't want no part of him. And all the while, I was wanting him so bad, I used to dream about him. But I wanted to get out of there in one piece, Justin. Wasn't no point in being stupid."

"Maybe you could have made it together."

"Maybe. But back then, I was too scared to even think about that. Man, the shit you put up with from Chris Hobbs, you multiply that by five and then think about it happening every day, not just sometimes, but all the time. Hell no, I wasn't about to start nothing with Tony. So when he came to me talking about love, I told him to get the fuck away from me and when he wouldn't, I kicked the shit out of him." At the end, his voice was so soft, Justin almost had to lean forward to hear him but he didn't want to, didn't want to move closer to Xavier once he realized what he'd said. He'd beaten someone, attacked Tony because the boy had wanted him.

"What happened then?"

"He left me alone. Decided to go straight. All the way, no dope. Joined a gang, started hanging with some serious players. Got some girl pregnant. We were sixteen, Justin. Sixteen-years-old and already his life was over. He was already dead, just waiting for his body to drop. And it did." Xavier's eyes filled with tears. "Him and some of his boys got mixed up in something they didn't know nothing about. Cops found them one morning, shot in the back of the head. Drugs probably. And there you go. All over." A tear ran down his cheek. "And he was so smart, Justin. A's and B's in school. Knew more about black writers than the professors down at Howard. He could have gone to Howard, been something. Done something with his life. But he didn't. Now there's this two-year-old kid with his eyes and hair running around the projects waiting for his bullet." Justin slipped off the stool and went to Xavier, embraced him. "I was so afraid, Justin."

"I know."

"And I killed him."

"No." Justin held his face in his hands. "No, you didn't."

"All he needed was a chance." Closed his eyes. "That's all either one of us needed." Laid his head upon Justin's shoulder. After a moment, Justin raised his friend's head and looked into Xavier's eyes, his beautiful dark brown eyes. "I love you, J."

Justin released him, tried to move away but the other teen caught hold of him and he felt Xavier's mouth on his, pressing hard, and he gasped, tried to catch his breath, and fell into a kiss so deep, so passionate that he could hardly stand. As he had imagined doing, he touched Xavier's hair, running his fingers down the tight cornrows to the nape of his neck. He could feel Xavier stiffening against his groin and, for an instant, he nearly grabbed him. But it didn't matter because Xavier touched him, slid his hand up under his shirt and brushed his nipple ring. Something inside him pulsed and he moaned into Xavier's mouth. Abruptly they parted, having scared themselves, parted and stood, chests heaving, trying to figure out what to do next. Justin's hands trembled, his entire body quivered. What am I. . . ? Reaching blindly behind him, he felt the wall, backed up until he was against it.

"J. . ." Xavier moved towards him but Justin shook his head.

"No. We can't."

"But, J. . ." He stopped and looked at Justin with such longing in his eyes that Justin had to close his to keep from seeing it. "Justin, I need you."

"So does he."

"I don't care about him!" shouted Xavier.

"I need him," said Justin. "I love him."

"And you don't feel nothing for me?"

"I never said that."

Taking that as a sign of hope, Xavier asked, "Do you love me?"

"You're my friend. . ."

"You didn't answer my question."

Justin forced himself to speak. "I love you like a friend. Because you are. One of the best friends I have."

"No!" Like a caged animal, Xavier paced. Suddenly stopped and fixed Justin with a stare. "And that's all?"

"That's all it can be, Xavier." Justin pushed off from the wall. "Please. Say it's enough."

But Xavier wouldn't. "You know it's not."

"It's all I can give you."

"That kiss meant something."

And Justin admitted that it did. "It meant that- - that there's an attraction. But I was attracted to Chris Hobbs too and look how that ended."

Anger shook Xavier. "Don't. Don't you dare compare us to what happened between the two of you."

"Xavier, there is no us. No you and me. Except as friends. I love Brian."

"You keep saying that. Who you trying to convince? Me or you?"

"Neither one of us. You know how I feel about him. You know what he means to me. I would never do anything to hurt him, never leave him. Never, Xavier." And he meant it. No matter how attracted he was to Xavier, he would never leave Brian for him.

"You know what I did after Tony got killed? Started fucking around with these guys I would pick up on the weekend. Hanging around these clubs that only existed on Friday night. Everything on the down low. Even slept with a girl or two, just to keep frontin'." He stared down at his hands. "I can't go back to that, Justin."

Only there was nothing he could say. "I'm sorry. But he's what I want."

As if he finally believed him, Xavier nodded. Grabbed his gloves from the table top. "I guess I should finish this up." Except he couldn't see for the tears that blinded him.

Wiping his eyes, Justin asked, "We're still friends, right?" Waited, then asked again, "Right?"

And Xavier slid on one of his gloves. "I need some time, Justin. This ain't easy."

"But you're leaving on Monday." Looked away. "I have a present for you. I thought you could come by the loft- -"

"No."

"Then I'll bring it here. Tomorrow. I'll come by- -"

"No," decided Xavier. "Keep it until I get back," he said softly.

Just as softly, Justin assented. "Okay." Paused before leaving. "I hope you have a good Christmas."

Xavier fixed his eyes on his gloves. "You too."

Chest tight, Justin left the building and hailed a cab. He had to see Brian now. 

 

Having made little headway on the new Latham campaign, Brian closed the file and sighed. Saturday totally wasted. Should have been home having fun. Well, it wasn't too late to do just that. He grabbed his briefcase and packed his stuff, just in case inspiration hit him sometime between now and Monday, and was just about to call it a day when the door to his office opened. Thinking maybe Cynthia had come in for some reason, he was surprised to see Justin. Smiled. "Couldn't wait, huh?" And then he saw that Justin wasn't smiling, that he had this look of complete misery on his face. "What? What is it? Reporters? Have they been bothering you again?" he asked because a few had persisted in trying to get them to talk despite their repeated refusals. Justin came to him and fell into his arms, pressed his face against Brian's sweater. "Baby, what is it?"

But Justin only rubbed his cheek against the warm wool, unable to speak for a few moments. Then he said, "I went and saw Xavier."

Heart racing, Brian asked, "What happened?" He was aware of Xavier's feelings for Justin, but he wasn't quite sure how Justin felt about Xavier, outside of being friends. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Wasn't sure if he'd know what to do if- -

"He told me this story, about this guy he knew, this guy who was in love with him. . ." Justin shuddered. "It was just so sad," he said, reducing the entire episode to those five words, five inadequate words that only partially told the truth. He couldn't tell Brian all that had happened. Couldn't. It would only make things worse. If Brian knew- - Jesus. . . He'd probably go down there and beat the shit out of Xavier. Or try to. And it wasn't all Xavier's fault.

Brian brushed the tears away from Justin's cheeks and kissed his eyelids gently. "There. Better?" The teenager nodded. Despite not buying Justin's story entirely, Brian was willing to let it go if Justin was. Besides, it might have been one of the residual effects from the attack. The doctors had said that he'd probably experience some personality changes but they weren't specific so he never knew how to take any sudden change. This time he decided to see if he could take Justin's mind off of things. "Fuck, we're like a couple of weeping willows," he said referring to the spate of crying jags they'd had over recent weeks and Justin laughed. It was true. "How about we go dancing tonight? Put on some really sexy clothes and set the clubs on fire?"

That sounded like a fabulous idea, just the thing to forget about this afternoon. "Yeah," he replied.

"I've got this new shirt that I haven't worn- -"

"Which new shirt?" since Brian had about a half-dozen that he'd bought and never worn.

"The black one." Justin waited. "The sheer black one with the vertical stripes."

Justin remembered that shirt and didn't know if he wanted his man out there advertising the goods especially since he had no intention of letting anyone else sample any. "I still say it's a little slutty."

Laughing, Brian said, "Baby, it's a lotta slutty." Stuck his tongue in his cheek.

"Behave."

"Not on your life," he said, picking up his briefcase and coat and leading the way. 

 

It wasn't the first time they'd gone out dancing since the trial ended but they hadn't been out so many times that the experience wasn't a little nerve-wracking, especially since more than a few people stared and whispered about them. Amazing. Even among the drugged-out and hopped-up, they were still a topic of conversation. Of course, it wasn't everyday that the King of Babylon was front-page news. In anything but the local gay rag.

Wanting to growl at the gossips, Brian concentrated on getting them a couple of beers and checking out the action on the dance floor. Not that he really cared. But it was always nice to be noticed, to flirt with some guy knowing that his baby was waiting for him, waiting to take him home and fuck until the early hours of the morning. Just thinking about it made him hard. He glimpsed Michael and Jeff out of the corner of his eye. Coming towards them. Justin was looking the other way, hadn't even seen them. So he nudged him. Pointed. Justin waved.

Jeff waved back as did Michael, although Michael had kind of a guilty look in his eyes. Which Brian didn't understand. So what if he was seeing Jeff? Big deal. He could fuck the Easter Bunny for all he cared. True, his first impulse after seeing Jeff's story for the first time- - after the trial- - was to punch him in the goddamn mouth, but he had calmed down. Realized that Jeff hadn't done that much harm. Probably had done them some good in the PR department. Not that much of anything could have helped him. At least as far as the breeders were concerned. Mikey said Jeff had a huge female following. Well, fuck it, all that was over now. And if not exactly over, he had begun to care less.

"Hey, guys," said Michael, giving them a slight smile.

Brian glanced at Jeff as he asked, "How's the pickings?"

Jeff smirked. "Slim. I think we got the best ones."

"Definitely."

At that Michael's smile grew. It was going to be all right.

Justin sat his beer down next to Michael. "Watch this, okay?" Tugged on Brian's shirt. "Come on, old man, you promised me a dance."

Leaving his beer as well, Brian said, "I think I promised you more than that."

Smiling brightly, Justin replied, "When we get home, pops."

From the sidelines, Jeff and Michael watched as Justin and Brian made a space for themselves on the floor and then proceeded to turn the heat up a notch in the place. Brian didn't have to do much, just move a little, his beauty in motion more than enough for most people. It was Justin who did the real dancing, twisting his lithe body around his lover's taller one, seducing his man and everyone else with his gyrations, his pumping hips, and arching back. After a few minutes of this, they were joined by another couple, segueing into a seething quartet of hot bodies that enflamed the men around them.

One song turned into another and still they danced, Brian and Justin moving closer together, Brian scooting down a little so that he could look into his little boy's eyes as they moved to the music. The third song slowed things down a little tempo-wise but their pulse rates increased as they moved even closer together, Brian's arms around Justin's shoulders, the teen's arms around his lover's waist, groins touching, cocks straining against uncooperative clothing. Justin opened his mouth and waited for Brian to close the gap between them. They kissed, tongues dancing out of sight, bodies wanting more, more, everything. Sliding his hand up under Brian's shirt, feeling the hot skin of his side, fingers moving over his ribcage, Justin moaned and clenched the back of Brian's head in his free hand.

Brian drew apart a little. "You wanna go?"

And Justin, feeling his dick grow heavier, harder, nodded. "Now."

Taking the teenager's hand in his, Brian led him from the dance floor. Michael and Jeff had long abandoned their drinks, guessing that they wouldn't want warm beer anyway.

How they made it to the loft without tearing off one another's clothes, they didn't know, but they did stop in the stairwell and fall against the wall, kissing so hard that they were out of breath by the time they reached the door.

Pushing Brian down upon the sofa, Justin knelt astride him and tore open his shirt, fastening his lips around one broad nipple. Heard Brian groan as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, and then he closed on the tip just hard enough to make the man shout. Licked the abused flesh and kissed it prettily. "There. Kiss and make it better," he whispered and Brian said, "Again." So he kissed it again.

All night they fell in and out of tangled heaps, making love over and over again until they were both sore and exhausted and utterly spent. Making their way from the sofa to the chaise lounge to the bed, they left a trail of clothes, sweat, and cum. Finally, they collapsed among the covers and slept like the dead for three hours, waking around six only to check the clock and close their eyes once more.

Getting up a little after nine, they lounged around in their robes having coffee and omelets that Justin whipped up despite Brian's protests to the contrary that bagels would be enough for him. In the end, he ate the entire three-egg omelet that Justin fixed for him, cream, cheese, butter and all. Patting his stomach, he made a mental note to run for a half hour on the treadmill before the day was out. Speaking of which, he wondered what the Boy Wonder had planned for the day. "You going by the Institute to see Xavier?" he asked, browsing through the newspaper. Now that the trial was over, he could get back to reading it, something he used to do religiously.

At that Justin froze. How would he explain to Brian that he wasn't? "No," he said simply hoping that, for once, Brian wouldn't be curious. No such luck.

"Why not? Don't you have a present for him? I thought he was leaving tomorrow morning?"

"He is. Xavier said to save it until he got back." He thought quickly. "I don't think he had money to buy me anything so he felt kind of bad."

Brian shrugged. "Whatever." Drained the last of his coffee and returned to the paper. "Tell him the next time he finishes a piece to let me know. I could take some pictures of it, show them to Liz Ryder-Kelly. She likes modern art. You never know."

Staring at Brian as if he'd grown a second head, Justin asked, "You'd do that for him?"

The man shrugged again. "It'd look good for me if she did buy something."

Smiling at the way Brian had downplayed his good deed, Justin made up his mind to do better in the future, despite whatever temptations were sent his way. Brian deserved the best and he'd get it. No matter what. 

 

**Tuesday, December 18th**

And like most best laid plans, this one went awry as well. From the moment they'd arrived at the courthouse, Justin had begun to replay in his mind his encounter with Xavier. He barely heard the reporters even though they were shouting at the tops of their lungs. He had no idea how he'd gotten inside, other than the fact that Brian was still with him and he assumed the man had opened the door and walked with him to Keisha's office.

The Assistant District Attorney looked as natty as ever with her braids done up in a modified bun, two sticks thrust through it for support.

"Interesting," Brian commented.

"Just call me the ghetto geisha," she joked and both she and the ad exec laughed.

Justin guessed that why Brian liked her cause her sense of humor was just as harsh as his own. Plus, she was tough as shit. They didn't call her Mace for nothing. Behind her back, of course, although he bet she wouldn't mind if she knew. Would probably take it as a compliment. Grateful for a distraction, he allowed himself to be drawn into their conversation about the spring collection from Emporio Armani. Although he didn't say anything, he listened. And then Keisha changed topics.

"You don't have to speak at the sentencing, Justin. Not if you don't want to. Brian's not."

Looking at his lover, he was surprised. After everything that Mason had done to Brian, Justin would have thought that Brian would have jumped at the chance to put a nail in Hobbs' coffin. Of course, he'd just assumed that Brian would speak. "Why not?"

"Because you're the one he attacked. I think if anyone speaks, it should be you." Grinned ruefully. "Besides, I don't think I could keep my temper."

"Me either," agreed Keisha. "Last thing I need is for you to go ballistic. Again." She paused. "So what do you want to do, Justin?"

He thought about it and thought about it and although he didn't know what he'd say, he felt he had to say something. "I want to speak."

"Okay. The judge is only going to give you a few minutes, so make it brief."

"What do you think he'll do?" Brian asked.

"Truthfully? I don't know. Could go either way. Kramer could take the hard line and give him the maximum sentence or he could take into consideration it's a first offense, take into consideration Hobbs' background, his potential. . . I don't know."

"Potential for what? Further acts of aggression?"

"To become a productive member of society."

"Fuck that."

"You never know," she replied.

All the way down to the courtroom, Justin thought and thought and thought about what he would say and he went over a half a dozen scenarios in his head while Kramer conducted business and the defense called several people to speak in Chris Hobbs' behalf including his parents. It wasn't until Cynthia called him to the podium that he made a decision. _I'm sorry,_ he said to Brian in his heart and he hoped that he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

"I guess everyone expects me to say that I hope Chris gets as many years as you can give him, and I used to feel that way. But I don't anymore." Behind him, he could hear Keisha shifting in her seat. She was probably turning to warn Brian not to say anything. Justin went on. "Everyone deserves a chance. Over a year ago, I met Brian. I did some pretty stupid things and I could have been hurt. I could have been killed. But I wasn't. I was lucky. I was lucky that I met Brian instead of someone else, someone who might have raped me or abused me in some other way. Not everyone is as lucky as I was. Maybe if Chris had met someone like Brian, maybe things would have been different. I hate what he did to me but I don't hate him. I understand him. More now than I used to. And I'm sorry for what I did. I was wrong and I'm sorry. I think he needs help and I hope he gets it. If there's a chance for him to do something with his life, to make a difference, to fall in love, I don't know, I just- - I think it'd be a waste if nothing good came out of this. Thank you." As he turned towards the gallery, he saw for the first time Deb and his mom and dad and Lindz. He hadn't even noticed them when they'd come down from Keisha's office. Looking at them and not Brian, he made his way to his seat.

As Justin returned to the gallery, Brian rose and went to Keisha. "I want to say something," he told her and she caught Justin's eye over his shoulder.

"I don't think- -"

"I want to," he said again and she relented.

"Fine." Turned to Kramer. "Mr. Kinney would also like to make a statement, Your Honor."

After going to the podium and saying and spelling his name for the record, Brian began to speak. Although he'd had three weeks in which to recover from the trial, he still seemed tired. No one but Justin knew how quickly that exhaustion had fallen upon him, just in the minutes it'd taken Justin to say a few words. Now, weary and angry, Brian spoke to the court. "I didn't know what Justin would say and now that I've heard him. . ." He paused, unable to continue that train of thought. "Looking at Justin walk away from the Jeep the night of the prom was the first time I admitted to myself that I loved him. I know it doesn't seem like a lot to most people cause they fall in and out of love all the time. But I've only ever fallen in love with two people in my entire life and Justin is one of them. I was sitting in the Jeep looking at him in the side mirror and it hit me: I loved him. And then I saw Chris Hobbs and he hit Justin. I saw him hit Justin. I heard it. I'll never forget that sound for as long as I live. I'll never not remember it. Along with all of the good things about being in love, falling in love, I'll always remember seeing Justin get hurt. I thought he was dead. I thought he was dead and I'd have to live the rest of my life knowing that I wasn't fast enough to save him, that I was too slow, too old, too far away. Those were the worst moments of my life and I've been through some pretty terrible times.

"I don't know how to say that now it's all right. That Hobbs made a mistake and it's okay. I don't know how to do that." As he spoke his voice cracked occasionally but he didn't cry; dry-eyed, yet with eyes filled with pain, he gave his statement. "Justin has nightmares about something he can't even remember. He has nightmares about being hit but he doesn't remember being hit. I remember. And the memories to me are worse than any nightmare because they're always with me. I know that sending Hobbs to prison won't make the memories go away, I know that. But it's not right, that you should have to watch someone you love dying. Because he was. Even though he lived, he could have died. I could have held him in my arms and watched him die. I could have lost him the very moment I found him. Whether Hobbs intended to kill him or not, I thought I was going to lose him. And then he would have killed us both. And there'd be two less faggots in the world. Two less abominations."

And he stood there, lost in a pain so paralyzing that it was only when Keisha touched him on the arm that he moved, looking around in confusion. She knew, they all knew, that he'd been back in that parking garage, holding a bleeding Justin in his arms, weeping, terrified that he'd lost him.

In the end the judge sentenced Hobbs to three years in prison. It was the least amount of time he could have given him. The moment judgement was pronounced, Hobbs slumped and would have dropped to his seat if Mason hadn't been holding him by the arm. Behind them, his mother began to cry, his father holding her as he had all throughout the trial. They had no other children. Chris was their only child, their only hope. Watching Hobbs' parents hug him, feeling his mother's arms around him, Justin could see, in his mind, the paths their lives had taken, entwined for a while, now moving apart, his towards the light and Hobbs' into the shadows. 

 

Justin imagined that the Arctic couldn't have been as quiet or as cold as the inside of the Jeep on the ride home. For once he didn't attempt to start a conversation. Brian was mad, had been mad from the moment he'd said his piece at the sentencing. When he'd returned to his seat, Brian had given him a look that had sent chills down his spine. And as they'd exited the courthouse, reporters yelling for a statement, Brian had said nothing, hadn't even tried to come between Justin and the journalists. It was then that Justin began to be afraid. The ride home had done nothing to assuage his fear. As the elevator reached their floor, Justin fought to contain his panic.

Once inside, Brian strode into the bedroom and removed his overcoat. Hung it up and proceeded to change his clothes. Justin waited until Brian was done and had gone into the bathroom before entering the bedroom and changing. He'd just finished pulling on his sweater when Brian came out of the bathroom and went into the kitchen without speaking to him. Knowing there was no point in putting it off any longer- - but afraid to say anything to the man when he was in this kind of a mood- - Justin stood near the sofa, unsure what to do.

Brian snatched a bottle of water from the fridge and drank down most of it. He was aware of Justin's scrutiny, aware that the teen was waiting for him to give some kind of sign as to what approach he should take. If he knew like Brian did, he wouldn't bother. The man didn't know if there was anything Justin could do or say to change the way he felt right now. Finally, he put down his water and asked, "Why? Why, Justin?"

He knew his answer wouldn't be good enough but it was the only one he had. "I had to."

And that made Brian even angrier. "No. You didn't. You chose to do that. You could have said nothing."

"Brian- -"

"I- -" He shook his head. "I don't understand, Justin. Why?" he asked again, the only question there was, the only question Justin probably could never give a satisfactory answer to.

"It was the right thing to do."

"For whom? For that asshole Chris Hobbs?"

"Yes." Incredible as that sounded.

Half-turning away, the anger like blood coursing through his veins, Brian growled, "You'll pardon me if I don't give a good goddamn."

Taking a step, Justin paused. "Brian. Brian, please."

"You betrayed me," he said, staring directly into the teen's worried eyes.

"No."

"You put him before me. You put that piece of shit before me."

He had to make him understand. "I kept thinking about what Xavier had said. About his friend. And I couldn't. . ."

"So you put both of them before me. Xavier and fuckin' Chris Hobbs."

"No, I didn't," he explained. "Brian- -"

"Yeah, you did. You went in there and practically handed that psychopath the keys to the fuckin' city. I just. . ." He shaded his eyes momentarily, fighting the tears. "I just don't understand. Everything that I went through. . . for nothing. Nothing." He walked into the livingroom and sat in the one of the armchairs, not looking at Justin, not trusting himself to do so.

Wanting to go to him but aware that to do so would only make things worse, Justin stayed put. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well, you did. I was fuckin' humiliated. My whole life out there for everyone to see. There isn't a detail of my life that hasn't been talked about or written about or speculated on. Strangers know all about us, about our sex life, about what we do in bed, in our bed. They might as well be in there with us." He wiped his eyes, having given up trying to keep the tears from flowing. "I went through all that for you. Because I love you. Because you're the most important thing, the most important person in my life. Because there's nothing I wouldn't do for you." He covered his face momentarily, trembling as he spoke. "And you did this to me."

"Brian, please." Justin moved forward before pausing again. "Please, listen to me."

"From the moment we got together, I've never put anyone else before you. You've always been first. Before my family, my friends, my job, my child. You think that was easy?"

"I know it wasn't- -"

"I'm so angry with you right now. Just. . ." He looked away. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Terrified, Justin asked, "You want me to go?"

"This is your home too," he replied softly. "I can't tell you to go." Paused. "I don't want you to go." But before Justin could take that as a positive sign, he added, "I just don't want to talk to you right now."

Tears streaming down his face, Justin went to the chaise lounge and sat. God, things had gone so wrong. And why? Why had he done it? Brian was right. He'd put them before his own lover, before the man who was supposed to be more important than anyone or anything. Not wanting to give Brian any other reason to regret ever getting involved with him, Justin covered his mouth and cried silently.

He knew that Justin was over there crying and he didn't give a fuck. Right now he could choke him. He couldn't believe it. Even though he'd been there, listening to Justin speak in favor of leniency, he still couldn't believe it. But here they were, apart, a gulf between them so wide that he didn't think he could find a way across it. Didn't even know if he wanted to. Only, that wasn't true. Even now, as angry as he was with Justin, all he really wanted was a reason not to be angry with him, a reason to hold him, and that's what hurt the most, that he was willing to do almost anything. He stood and went over to the window, to see if the reporters had gone. Now that the sentencing was done, he hoped they'd go on to something else. But there they were, a few die-hards, hoping to get a last tidbit to feed their viewers. All of a sudden, he was seized by an irrational desire to open the window and scream. Instead of giving into the impulse, he suppressed it and found his book of Mapplethorpe flowers, sat with it on his lap hoping to lose himself in the impeccable compositions and gorgeous colors. After a while, he closed the book and lowered his head. Tears dropped on the glossy cover. How was he ever going to get past this?

He could hear Brian weeping and he raised from his seat, then sat back down. The last thing Brian wanted was to see him. If he were smart, he'd just leave. But he couldn't. He couldn't leave him. Even if Brian put him out, he'd just sit outside the door and wait for him to let him back in and if he didn't, he'd just sit there until the end. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he moved gingerly, removing his sketch pad from its place on the shelf below the drawing he'd done of Brian sleeping. They'd come full-circle, back to the days when he'd had to sneak glances at Brian, when they'd been together and yet apart. Risking a look at his estranged lover, he saw Brian's shoulders rise and fall and he longed to go to him and hold him. What had he done? 

 

Having passed the day in silence, the two men retired within minutes of one another, Brian dropping off his clothes and sliding beneath the covers slowly, as if he were almost too weary to sleep. Joining him, Justin reached towards him and heard Brian say, "Don't." He withdrew his hand and turned away.

The next morning, they arose and tiptoed around one another while they performed their toiletries and fixed breakfast, Brian taking only a cup of coffee which he carried to his desk and nursed while he checked his email. Sitting along at the table, Justin tried not to give in to the despair he was beginning to feel. Finally, he spoke.

"Are we just going to go on like this? Not talking to each other?"

Brian paused with his finger hovering over the mouse, just about to delete some unwanted mail. "Why don't you call Xavier and talk to him? You and he seem to have quite a rapport."

"I said I was sorry!" Justin shouted. "How many more times do you want me to say it?"

"Until it makes a difference," he replied coldly.

Justin got up from the table and grabbed his dishes, carried them to the kitchen. Then found his coat and stormed from the apartment.

Brian closed down his email and sat at his computer, unwilling to move. He should have gone into the office, should have drowned himself in work but he'd taken the day off at the last minute, reckoning that he'd be unable to concentrate. And he was right. All he could think about was Justin and the mess they'd made of everything. 

 

Not a single reporter in sight, he walked around the neighborhood, no destination in mind, just needing to get out of the apartment, to get away from Brian and his unforgiving anger. That Brian had a right to be angry, he didn't dispute. But what was the point? What was done was done. Chris Hobbs had been sentenced, there was no going back and changing anything and he didn't think that he would even if he had it all to do over again. He had done the right thing, no matter how Brian felt. There was a chance for Hobbs, if someone could get through to him. Everyone, even Chris Hobbs, deserved a chance at salvation. Still, he understood why Brian was so angry. Understood it and hoped that he'd be able to get through it to Brian eventually. Only, the real reason he'd done it was Xavier, and that he wasn't sure he could ever explain because he didn't want to think about it himself.

Returning home a couple hours later, he found the loft empty. Brian had probably gone to Michael for comfort, complaining about his twinky lover again. If Michael could get Brian to calm down and see reason then let him. Justin was tired of feeling guilty, tired of saying he was sorry. All he wanted was for them to get back to normal. But what exactly was normal? And how could they with this secret between them? Just thinking about Xavier intensified the guilt he felt. What the fuck was he going to do? He had no intention of taking things any further with his friend and yet they'd gone way beyond what he'd ever intended already. Still, he knew that wasn't entirely true. They'd gone further than he would have allowed himself to go. He wondered if this was what Brian had felt, being around Michael, knowing that his best friend wanted him. Had Brian ever wanted Michael as well? Had there ever been a moment when Brian had been tempted to return his friend's feelings, to give Mikey waht he wanted? Other than the Patrick Swayze episode, Brian claimed he and Michael had never had sex and Justin believed him. He wouldn't lie about that. Unlike him.

Curling up on the couch, Justin tried to keep his mind off of Xavier, off of their kiss, off of the feelings it had engendered. But he couldn't. He could still feel Xavier hard against him. Maybe it was just body stuff, maybe he should have had sex with Xavier and gotten it out of the way. Perhaps once they'd fucked, the need would go away and they'd go back to being friends. Only, Justin knew that it'd never be enough for Xaiver. One time would never satisfy the hunger the teen felt. And he wasn't sure if it'd be enough for him either. He felt love for Xavier, not the same love as he did for Brian, but love nonetheless and if they slept together, who knew what would happen. Maybe nothing. Maybe they'd hate each other and he'd lose a good friend. Or worse, maybe he'd lose Brian.

The phone rang. Thinking it was his mom, he answered, "Hey." There was silence on the other end. "Hello?" Nothing. And then he knew. It was Xavier. He held the phone a few seconds longer. Then spoke. "Say something." The line went dead. He replaced the receiver in its cradle and retrieved his sketch pad from its place next to the desk. He had a lot of work to make up for class and it wasn't getting done sitting around worrying about Xavier. Besides, he had other, more pressing concerns, such as what he was going to do about Brian. 

 

Lindsay arrived home to find Mel glancing out the back door. Kissing her lover on the neck, she asked, "What are you looking at?"

"Brian and Gus. They've been out there for fifteen minutes."

She took a peek. "Doing what?"

"Playing."

Which was what they were doing. Brian pulling the baby and Beh around in his wagon, Gus giggling and holding onto his leather teddy bear.

"Did he say anything?" Lindz asked, letting the curtain fall.

"Just that he wanted to see his son." Mel opened the oven and checked dinner. "I guess he and Justin still aren't talking."

"How long 'til dinner?"

"Twenty minutes."

Lindsay opened the door. "Hey!" Brian stopped pulling. "I think it's time to come in." He nodded and picked up Gus and Beh in one hand, the wagon in the other. She closed the door behind them. Followed him to the living room where he removed Gus' scarf and hat and mittens, his coat and shoes. When he'd finished, the baby went in to Mel. Like Justin, he got really excited about meals. Brian took off his coat and gloves too. Waited for Lindsay to mention his problem with Justin. It didn't take long.

"You all right?"

"No."

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"Maybe you should stay out of it."

"You came here."

"To see Gus." He knew she didn't buy it. Hell, he didn't buy it. Finally he said, "Talk about what? We've talked it to death. He thinks what he did was right and I don't. How the fuck do we get past that?"

"You will."

"How? When every time I see him or think about him, I just- - I feel like I'm going to explode."

"He loves you more than his life."

"Then how did this happen?"

She glimpsed Mel in the doorway, talking with Gus. Remembered their problems, how insurmountable they'd seemed at the time. Until Brian had forced them to acknowledge that what was important was that they be together. If only she could do the same for him. But she had no answers. "He was trying to do the right thing."

"I know that!" Brian stood, paced the floor. "The right thing for Hobbs and for Xavier. But what about me? What about the person he supposedly loves? I'm just supposed to understand, to get over it?" Pausing, he looked at the wall, not seeing the painting hanging there. Said softly, "I can't get over it. Because it feels like. . . it feels like. . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Everyone thinks that it's so easy to just start over. Every time something happens, I just take it and keep on going. Nothing ever gets to me, nothing ever hurts me." She could see him struggle not to lose it. But his voice, when he spoke, was strained with the effort. "This. . . It hurts, Lindz. And I don't know what to do." She went to him and hugged him. "I don't know."

Holding him at arm's length, she looked into his eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes, eyes that Gus had inherited, that she never grew tired of looking into, and she asked him, "So it's over?"

"No," he said so quickly that she knew it was his worst fear, that they'd strayed so far apart that they couldn't go on together.

"Then you need to make peace with this and go on with your lives. Put it behind you." She recalled the anger she'd felt when she found out about Mel's infidelity and, at the time, she'd thought that she'd never forgive Melanie, but she did, because she needed Mel more than she wanted to hang onto the anger and resentment. "Otherwise, you're going to throw away something you can't ever replace." 

 

Justin was home when he got back. Sitting by the window sketching in the dying afternoon sunlight. At first he intended to go into the bedroom without saying anything, but he changed his mind. "Hey," he said, putting down his camera. He'd gone to the park after leaving Mel and Lindsay's place and taken pictures of trees until he didn't think he could look at another one.

The teen eyed him. "Hey," he said softly in answer.

Unable to take it any further, Brian passed through to the bedroom and hung up his jacket. Sat on the bed trying to decide what to do. He couldn't believe they'd survived the trial only to fall apart now. It didn't seem fair. He heard Justin approaching. Waited.

Justin stood on the bottom step. "I think maybe I should go to my mom's, until. . . until. . ."

"Until what?" Brian asked.

"I don't know," replied Justin.

"You want to go?"

"No." He climbed to the top of the steps. "But I don't want to stay here with us like this." When it appeared that Brian had nothing to say, Justin headed for his drawers.

"Wait."

"For what?" he snapped. "I didn't do it to hurt you."

"I know."

"Then what's wrong?"

Brian turned towards him. "It still hurts."

Frustrated, Justin let his head hang, exhausted by their argument. "What do you want me to do?"

"There's nothing you can do," Brian admitted.

Justin looked over at him. "So we go on like this until you've decided that I've been punished enough?"

"This isn't about punishing you."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about me trying to- -" He fell silent. Continued, using Lindsay's words. "Trying to find some kind of peace."

Justin watched his lover sitting on the bed, head bowed and shoulders slumped and he longed to touch him. Missed touching him. He opened the top drawer. "I can't live like this, Brian."

And despite his anger, despite the hurt, he didn't think he could make it without Justin. "Don't go," he said in a small voice, so tiny that wondered if he'd spoken at all.

"I don't want to."

"Then don't."

So Justin closed the drawer and sat on the opposite side of the bed from Brian. After a long moment in which he debated just leaving, taking nothing, and just going, Brian stood and came around to his side and sat next to him. He turned and his eyes met Brian's. Slowly, they came together and held on to one another. He could feel Brian's chest rise and fall, could hear him breathing. Burying his face in Brian's neck, he inhaled his scent, comforting, familiar. It seemed like years since they'd last touched. Kissing Brian's throat, he raised his face and waited for the man to make the next move.

Brian tightened his arms around Justin, the teen's slender but strong frame a support that he counted on, needed. He brushed his lips over Justin's, not quite ready to go any further but wanting to give his lover some assurance that he did still want him.

As Brian drew away, Justin forced himself to smile, just a little one, but a smile nonetheless. They would find their way back to one another. He believed that. 

 

**Thursday, December 20th**

Cynthia stared at him as if she hadn't seen him for days when she'd just seen him on Monday. "What do I have?" he asked, taking a seat and lighting up a cigarette. So much for quitting. Again.

"Meeting with Ryder at one about the Latham account and someone named Kenneth Harris called and wanted to meet with you this morning."

He shrugged. "Don't know him. Sure it isn't a reporter?"

"He said to tell you that he was not a reporter. And that if you wanted to check him out, look him up in the Fortune 500."

"And did you?"

She handed him the printouts smiling. That's why he kept her around.

"Thanks."

"And a thanks too? Wow."

Brian glanced up at her before turning his attention to the printout. Kenneth Harris, Founder and CEO of Hyperion Biotechnics. Ranked number 337 on the Fortune 500 and one of the fastest growing and most respected biotechnology firms in the country. "And he called the firm?"

Cynthia shook her head. "No. He called you. Direct."

"So Ryder doesn't know about this?"

"No." She waited. "You gonna tell him?"

"What time did Harris want to meet?"

"Sometime this morning, he said. He's in town for business and he's leaving this afternoon."

Brian laid the printouts on his desk. "Call him. If he wants, I'll go and meet him." After she had gone, he studied the information on Harris again. Why the hell would the CEO of a company like that call him? There had to be plenty of bigger firms he could have approached. Raising an eyebrow, Brian decided to put his curiosity on hold until he'd met the man. In the meanwhile, he had to get his shit together on the Latham account. But first, he needed coffee. Grabbing his cup, he made his way down to the break room, grinning when he remembered the last time he'd gone to get coffee. He didn't think he'd have any trouble this time.

Two hours later he pulled up in front of the Chesapeake Hotel and smiled. He and Justin had spent two very enjoyable nights in one of the suites on the twenty-ninth floor. Crossing the lobby, he caught an elevator that was just about to close its doors and punched 30. Harris had made it to the very top.

He was the only person left in the elevator as the doors opened on the thirtieth floor. Luckily Harris' room was near the elevator so he didn't have to walk around looking for it. Knocking, he waited for the man to let him in and tried to imagine what he looked like in his head. As the door opened, he realized his imagination had fallen far short of reality. He'd been expecting someone like Telson or Ryder, middle-aged and ordinary-looking. Harris was anything but.

In his early forties, tall, slender, honey blond hair, dark brown eyebrows and eyes. Brian wondered what color his pubes would be. Not that he'd get a chance to find out, but still, idle curiosity never hurt anyone.

"Come in," said Harris and he stepped aside to let his guest enter.

Brian walked past him and took the seat Harris offered him. Declined a drink and waited to see what the businessman wanted.

"I suppose you were surprised to hear that I'd called you, Mr. Kinney," the man said and Brian nodded. "After all, there are a lot of fine advertising firms in Birmingham." He had a slight accent but Brian guessed he'd probably moved to Birmingham from somewhere else as it wasn't a heavy Southern accent, just an emphasis on certain words and the cadence in his speech.

"I had wondered why you came to us. To me, specifically," he added.

"You do good work. Outstanding work," Harris amended. "Your firm represents this hotel and Liberty Air, correct?"

"Yes."

"Their new campaign's working. Just the image they needed to compete with the big boys."

Brian crossed his legs. "But you're already one of the big boys."

"True." Harris reached for a glass of mineral water. "Still, images grow stale. I'm looking for something new." Took a sip. "Someone new. Someone like you."

Flattered by the man's praise of his work, Brian still felt like he was missing a piece of vital information. "But why me?" He cocked his head. "You could have hired some high profile Madison Avenue firm. Why come to Pittsburgh at all?" Taking a chance, he added, "And even if you did decided to go with a firm in Pittsburgh, why us? Why me? You knew enough to assure Cynthia that you weren't a reporter, so you know about the trial. You know who I am."

Harris set down his water. "Yes, I do know who you are."

"Then why take a chance on me? On dealing with, at best, a whore and, at worst, a child molester?" The words hurt, they'd hurt at the time he'd read them in the papers and they still hurt. But he'd rather get everything out in the open. "I'm a public relations nightmare. Even I wouldn't take on my account."

"It'd be a mistake. A lot of people admire you."

Brian nearly laughed. "Admire me? For what?"

"For standing by your lover. Protecting him when he needed it. Going through all of that hell for him, with him when it would have been easier to have walked away. A lot of people in the gay community respect you for what you did."

He'd suspected Harris was gay when the man answered the door but he'd reserved judgement until presented with additional information. As usual, his gaydar was working fine.

"All we want," Brian said, "is to go back to our lives."

Spreading his hands, Harris said, "And that's what I'm offering you. A chance to do what you're good at: advertising. My company. You, personally."

Shrewdly, Brian asked, "And if I'd been a so-so advertiser? Would you still have given me your business?"

Harris laughed. "I didn't get to be on the Fortune 500 by being soft-hearted or -headed. I would have sent you a congratulatory card and a lovely bouquet of flowers."

Brian did laugh then. Uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his hand out. "You've got yourself an advertising firm. That is, if my boss approves."

Shaking on it, Kenneth grinned. "I don't think it'll be a problem." He released Brian's hand and handed him a folder. "Advertising figures for last year. I think you'll like the budget."

Like the budget? Hell, with an account like that, he'd be able to drop a lot of the other companies he'd been assigned. Trying not to show his enthusiasm too much, Brian said, "When can I make a site visit?"

"As soon as possible after the new year. I'll have my assistant make the arrangements with your secretary." He stood. "Lunch?"

Brian got up as well. "Let me call Cynthia to tell her I'll be out for a while."

As Brian took out his cell phone Kenneth studied him. "Too bad you're devoted to him." Brian paused and Kenneth smiled ruefully. "Could have been fun." Brian pursed his lips and Harris inhaled. "Real fun." 

 

Having hung around the loft all day sketching, not ready to go back to the diner yet, Justin wondered if things would ever get back to normal, if he and Brian would ever have what they used to have. He supposed it would take time.

The door opened. The first thing he saw was the bouquet of winter roses, creamy white, a dozen wrapped in shimmering gold-colored paper. The second was the bottle of champagne. And the third was Brian himself, his smile broad the way it hadn't been for weeks.

He stood and neared him. "What's going on?"

Brian leaned over and kissed him. "I love you."

Justin watched as Brian put down the flowers and the champagne and his briefcase. "What- -"

"Don't talk." He lifted Justin in his arms and kissed him again, harder this time, carrying him into the bedroom.

They couldn't undress fast enough. Justin didn't care what had brought about this change, just that it had come and they were going to make love. Even though it had only been a couple of days, it'd felt like a year. As Brian spread open his legs and kissed his inner thigh, Justin sighed and ran his hands through his lover's hair.

Afterwards, they got up and put the flowers in water and took out the flutes and sipped champagne.

"What about dinner?" Justin asked, aware of how silly he got when he drank on an empty stomach.

"It's on its way," Brian replied. Checked the clock. "Should be here any time now." Looked around for his robe. It was within reach. He set down his glass and kissed Justin again softly. He hadn't been able to kiss him enough to make up for the days they'd been apart.

"What happened?" Justin asked and Brian resigned himself to telling him. When he was done, Justin touched his face in wonder. "And that's all it took? For you to get a really big account?"

"No," Brian answered. "It wasn't the account. It was," he added quickly, "but that wasn't all of it."

"What was it, then?"

"That we survived what happened to us. We made it because we were together." He kissed him again aside the mouth. "We stood by one another and we didn't let anyone come between us." Brushing back Justin's bangs, he kissed his forehead, where he'd been struck. Looked into the teen's bright blue eyes. "Chris Hobbs and what happens to him, that's not important. We're what's important. Us." He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Justin's. "I just forgot that for a while, that's all."

Justin rolled him over onto his back and straddled him. Gave him a deep, passionate kiss that went on until the buzzer signaled the arrival of dinner. Groaning, Brian slipped on his robe, pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket, and padded to the door. When the delivery guy had gone again, Justin found his robe and joined Brian in the kitchen. "Can we go tomorrow and get the tree and stuff?"

"I- -"

"And presents," Justin said taking down the plates. "On Saturday. I haven't bought anything and Molly and Mom are going to my grandmother's house again so I have to give them their stuff on Sunday."

"O- -"

"What are you getting Gus?"

Exasperated at trying to speak and failing miserably, Brian grabbed Justin and kissed him, slipping his tongue inside the teen's mouth. He gnawed on his lips and when he released him, Justin was fairly out of breath. "Yes, we can go on Friday and get the tree and go shopping. I don't know what I'm getting Gus but I'm sure we'll find something on Saturday." He raked the noodles onto the two plates and poured the soup into bowls. "Let's eat."

Dinner consumed, they laid in bed and finished the bottle of champagne and then slowly began to make love again. Justin slipped his arm around Brian's waist and drew him over onto him, lifted the older man's leg and eased it across his hip so that Brian's penis lay against his own. Entwined like this they kissed for the longest time, gradually growing harder, moving against one another as their kisses got wilder, more insistent. Hand around Brian's dick, Justin began to fondle him as they continued to gnaw on one another's lips, Brian moaning inside his mouth as Justin increased the pressure of his strokes, tightening his fingers.

Brian lay on his back, Justin's hand still working at his groin, caressing him from root to tip. He was so hard, so hard and Justin's fingers were like magic, like torture, like feathers. Having broken off their kiss, the teen lowered his head and bussed the head of Brian's cock. The man gasped and sighed while Justin pleasured him, full lips sliding over engorged flesh, tongue flickering in creases and traveling lengthwise to cover the shaft before it disappeared into the warmth of Justin's mouth. He could feel the end of his cock brushing against the teen's throat, hard flesh against soft and he raised his hips, pushing deeper inside until Justin rose up, letting him slip free again. Eyes slitted, he could see Justin approaching his erection, saw his teeth a fraction of a second before the boy nipped him, but not enough time to stop the shout that erupted from his belly. In truth, the bite hadn't hurt, but the sensation made him dizzy. For the next minute or so his baby cat nibbled on his cock until his hole gaped open spilling precum over the head and down the shaft. Having fed, Justin drank, lapping the clear juice like the sweetest milk. Not wanting to come just yet, Brian lifted Justin free of his cock and drew him up on top of his chest. Kissed his sticky face tasting his own precum. Felt Justin's hard-on rubbing up against his belly. Now it was his turn to eat.

But he didn't go for his cock. Instead, he turned the teen over onto his stomach and parted his legs. Placed a pillow below him, raising his hips slightly. There was his goal. As always, the sight of the boy's cinnamon-colored bud quickened his pulse. Moving closer, he inhaled the teen's rich aroma and murmured his approval, smelling his cum among the folds. Unable to resist any longer, he extended his tongue and lapped the wrinkled orifice. Heard Justin moan. Encircled the opening with his lips and gave him that most intimate of kisses. Felt the edges of Justin's hole contract, then expand. Pressing his face in between his lover's cheeks, Brian begged for entrance, plying his anus with flickering touches, firm strokes, and playful nips until he'd convinced him to open up. Tongue buried in his ass, Brian probed him until Justin was wet and whimpering. Withdrew and licked his quivering hole. Bit his cheeks, covering the white skin with red love marks. _Mine. Mine. Mine._ Knelt over him and wet his finger. Thrust it inside, the warm lips clinging to his skin. Rotated his finger as he worked it in and out. Justin gave a cry and clamped down on the pillow beneath his head. His asshole tightened and Brian waited until he'd relaxed to pull out entirely. His baby was ready.

Amply lubricated, he brushed the head of his cock against Justin's hole, painting the wrinkles and folds with precum and KY. Justin raised his hips and pushed back, opening up around Brian, taking him inside with ease and they moved together, leisurely at first, then with greater urgency as they got closer to the breaking point. Head flung back, Brian squeezed his eyes shut and thrust harder, harder, gasping as his cock plowed his lover's lush hole. Meeting Brian's thrusts, Justin swayed his hips, milking Brian's cock with his muscles, squeezing, relaxing. _Open, close. Stay. Don't. Don't. Stay. Please. . ._

But Brian pulled out and shoved his cock between Justin's thighs and sprayed him with cum. As the first drop struck his skin, Justin cried out, his spunk joining Brian's on his belly and on the sheets and pillow below them.

Wet and sticky, they curled together and fell asleep. 

 

**Friday, December 21st**

Not believing that he was actually shopping in the Big Q Mart, Brian hoped no one of consequence saw him and then he remembered that no one of consequence would be seen in the Big Q Mart and he felt a thousand times better. Of course, the smile on Justin's face might have had something to do with that as well. The teenager was positively glowing as they went from aisle to aisle filling their basket with inexpensive gold and white ornaments for the tree and loft, Justin having decided that those colors would compliment the apartment's color scheme. Brian thought the ornaments looked a little cheap but Justin assured him that it was better not to buy expensive stuff as Gus just might get hold of something and break it. Still, Brian thought they could have gone to Macy's or Nordie's, some place like that. God, he hated the Big Q Mart. Emmett was right, it was a dreary crap emporium. Speaking of which, they needed toilet paper.

Ornaments and lights and garlands and candles purchased, they went on their next errand, which was to get the tree itself. After driving by two perfectly good Christmas tree lots (in Brian's opinion) they finally came to one that met the Boy Wonder's secret standards. Brian teased him, asking him if he was looking for a Charlie Brown Christmas tree and Justin stuck out his tongue momentarily before pointing, "That's it."

It turned out to be a six and a half foot Blue Spruce. The seller and Brian wrestled it on top of the Jeep and tied it securely. Then Brian paid the guy and climbed inside next to Justin. "What's next?"

"Stop by the Institute. I've got the rest of the ornaments for the tree."

"Rest?" Brian asked incredulously. They had over a hundred assorted doodads for the tree already plus two kinds of garland and six packets of lights. For the tree.

"Martha says you're supposed to use forty ornaments for every vertical foot. Besides, these are special ornaments."

The twinkle in Justin's eye that hinted at the fun they would have convinced him. "Okay." He waited as the teen went inside his studio and returned with a bag which he put with the others in the back. "What else?"

"Food."

"It's always food with you," Brian said. "Or fucking."

"You got a problem with that?" asked Justin.

"Ask me that this time next year when I'm broke and dickless."

Making a food pitstop at the Greek restaurant down the street, they took their dinner home and ate in the living room on the floor while Justin planned in his head what they needed to do first. Amused by his enthusiasm, Brian smirked and ate while trying not to laugh out loud. Justin already felt weird about being so domestic and the last thing he needed was for the teenager to feel like he was the 'little wife'. Truthfully, they both did the housework together, it was just that Justin was a much better cook so most of the time he cooked. Brian made the bed and kept the place up in between visits from the maid. In fact, he usually picked up behind Justin. But Justin was younger and still in school and only had a part-time job so he felt a little insecure about his status as viewed from the outside. Despite Brian's assurances that he didn't give a fuck what anybody thought.

In between forkfuls of souvlaki, Justin asked, "So what do you want for Christmas?"

Brian shrugged. He hadn't thought about it. "I don't want anything," he said finally.

"Nothing?"

"No."

Justin studied him as he ate and believed him. "Me neither."

That Brian did not believe. "Baby, I have everything I want. But if there's something you want, tell me."

Justin stuck by his decision. "I don't want anything either."

"It's okay if you do," tempted Brian.

"We're going away this summer. That's enough for me." He smiled, thinking of their trip. Brian had promised to buy the tickets with some of the bonus money he'd get from landing the Hyperion Biotechnics account, although 'landing it' was a bit of a stretch as all he'd done was go talk to the guy. Still, money was money and the account was going to generate a lot of revenue for the firm.

Brian didn't buy it. "Sure? Maybe some new art supplies or a new toy?" Arched an eyebrow.

Justin shook his head.

"Okay. But we gotta make a list of stuff for everybody else."

"You gonna get something for Claire and her kids?"

"I could just have her killed and put them all out of their misery."

Justin feigned being shocked. "Brian."

"Her fuckin' kids hate her." He remembered the email she'd sent him. "Bitch."

Not asking that he give the gifts to Claire in person, Justin suggested that he take them to his mother's house and leave them. "So what do you want to get your mom?"

He finished his spanakopita. "I'll think of something when I get to the store."

After dinner, they got the tree up in its stand in front of the window, moving the chairs out of the way first. "It's gonna look so beautiful from the street when it's all lit up," Justin said, envisioning it in his mind. He handed Brian the first strand of lights. They'd bought six in anticipation of having a six foot tree. "Wind it around the trunk and the branches."

"Yes, sir," Brian said, taking the strand and working from the way down, connecting the individual strands until he reached the bottom. Justin gave him the extension cord and he plugged it in. Immediately the tree glowed. "Wow," said Brian despite himself. It did look beautiful and they hadn't put any of the other stuff on it yet.

Next came the garland, which Justin helped with. He'd picked out both beaded and ribbon garlands in white and gold. Again Brian was impressed by how lovely the tree looked and it still wasn't finished.

Finally, they got out the ornaments and distributed them over the tree, taking care not to clump too many of one color together. Which was a little difficult since they were only using white and gold, but they did it. With the last of the store-bought ornaments on the tree, Brian admitted that it did look a little bare.

"Which is why I made these," Justin said and he took out the bag of ornaments he'd gotten from his studio. He held out the bag for Brian.

The man reached in and withdrew one. Immediately he began to laugh. "Condoms?"

"Uh-huh."

Justin had spray-painted about a hundred packets of condoms gold or white and then hand-painted contrasting designs on them and threaded fancy curlicue hooks through the tops.

"How long did it take you to do this?"

"About three hours."

Shaking his head, Brian laughed again. It was perfect. So they hung the condom ornaments and finished the tree off with a gold star and a white and gold quilted skirt.

The main Christmas display finished, they turned to the rest of the loft. Justin had bought garlands of green branches and while Brian had put the lights on the tree, he'd tied them with white and gold ribbon and glued on tiny ornaments. That morning Justin had gotten the building super to bring in the ladder, so with him holding it steady, Brian looped them over the curtain rods. The windows done, they laid the remaining strands along the top of the storage chest that ran along the outside of the bedroom and on top of the book case. In among the garland, they arranged white votives, the candles varying in height. There were also votives and tiny sprigs of green with ribbons for the kitchen counter top and bathroom. Neglecting nothing, there was even a juniper wreath for the door with a gold bow on the top.

"That it?" Brian asked slumping down on the sofa, exhausted but pleased with the way the loft looked.

Justin surveyed their work. "I think so." He came over with a bag in his hand and dropped down, eased his legs over Brian's lap. "What do you think?"

"It looks. . . okay."

Nudging him with his foot, Justin asked, "Just okay?"

"Good. It looks good."

Another nudge. "Good?"

Brian smiled. "It looks beautiful."

Justin's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Really."

The teen reached inside the bag he'd brought and took out a sprig of mistletoe. Held it over his head. "Then here's our reward for a job well done." With a tired groan, Brian crawled over to him and they kissed as if they'd never kissed before. 

 

**Saturday, December 22nd**

Shopping for Christmas gifts didn't go as smoothly and by lunchtime both of the men were ready to kill each other. And they'd only gotten a handful of gifts out of the long list of ones they needed to buy. Barely refraining from growling at one another, they sat in the restaurant and glowered at their menus. The problem was Brian had no idea what he wanted to get anyone and Justin was too full of ideas for the older man's taste. Or his patience. In fact, they were both running out of patience. Each of them hoped that the other would benefit from a hot meal. Not a good meal because, after all, they were eating in the mall. That was the other problem. Brian hated the mall, hated people who shopped in the mall, hated being in the mall, hated being near other people who were in the mall. By the time they'd finished eating, both of them knew they had to change plans.

"Look," Brian said, "I'll take half the list and you take half and we meet back here in two hours."

"And you have to stay here. In the mall," said Justin because he knew Brian, given the opportunity, he'd ditch the mall and hit the expensive boutiques instead.

"I'll stay in the fucking mall," he promised, speaking in a low, tight voice to avoid alarming the other shoppers.

Ignoring the tone, Justin said, "Two hours." He started to go but Brian caught him by the arm.

"And then we'll go home and fuck our brains out," he whispered.

"Who says I'd even want to go home with you and fuck you?"

"You do," replied Brian, sticking out his tongue. As Justin unconsciously moved closer, he snickered. "Later."

The teen shook his head and struck out on his own. "Later." 

 

Having been Justin-less for a half hour, Brian wondered what in the fuck he'd been thinking. He'd only found one present and he missed Justin like crazy. Jesus, he thought, is this what it's going to be like? Resigning himself to eating some serious crow, he decided to go find the teenager after looking at some scarves in a little specialty shop he'd run across. Tasteful, pretty, the kind of thing his mother would like.

From outside the window Cam watched Brian go through the table of scarves, unable to take his eyes off his ex-lover's hands as they lifted first one and then another of the delicate pieces of cloth. Brian had the longest fingers, slender, beautiful and strong like the rest of him. He watched him until the impulse to go inside and talk to him nearly overcame him. But he wasn't ready to confront him again, not after the last disastrous attempt. Finally looking away, Cam continued on, carried along by the crowd.

Justin had seen Cam from a distance and, curious, had followed him until he he'd seen Brian inside the store. Moving out of sight of the window, he'd observed Cam's clandestine surveillance. He could tell that it was killing the man not to go inside the boutique and talk to Brian and, in that moment, he actually felt sorry for Cam. He'd lost Brian, thrown him away, and yet his heart wouldn't let him give up on the hope that one day he might win Brian back. Justin knew that if he and Brian were to break up, he'd never give up either; even if it took the rest of his life, he'd find some way to make Brian love him again. 

 

Sunday, December 23rd

They dragged themselves out of bed around ten and showered and had two pots of coffee in preparation for visiting their parents. Brian had agreed to go with Justin to Jen's since the teen had assured him that Molly had bought something for him and wanted to give it to him personally. "I think she likes you," Justin teased. "What's this? Number three?" he asked, adding Molly to a group that already included Daphne and Rennie.

"They don't really want me," Brian explained. "I'm just safe. I'm unavailable, so I'm not a threat. I'm like the Prince in the fairy tales."

And Justin laughed remembering the story he'd told Gus about Prince Sunshine and Prince Charming/Alarming. Prince Charming/Alarming had been anything but safe. Neither was Brian. In fact, safe was the last thing in the world he'd call him. Beautiful, sexy, utterly beguiling, endlessly fascinating, but not safe. Never safe. He'd have your heart before you knew what had happened to you. Just ask Michael, Cam, Chris Hobbs. . . And him.

Their first stop was Joanie's house. She'd gone to early mass and had returned home to begin baking the pies and cakes for Tuesday's dinner. With the stove already on, she'd whipped up a batch of cinnamon rolls for which both the men were grateful as they'd only had coffee before leaving home and their stomachs were rumbling. "I can fix breakfast," she offered but they declined. Cinnamon rolls and coffee would be enough. As they ate, she asked, "Are you sure you can't come by on Tuesday?"

Brian grimaced. "I think it'd be best considering Claire and I aren't exactly speaking right now."

"But she's your sister."

"That's your fault. Not mine."

Raising an eyebrow in much the same way that Brian did, Joanie said, "Don't be a smartass."

Justin fought back a chortle. He supposed Brian hadn't gotten all of his fire from his dad.

"Look, I got her a present, you can give it to her. And it won't blow up in her face," he assured her, then grumbled, "Justin wouldn't let me get anything like that."

"Thank you, Justin," she said graciously, a huge improvement over their first dinner during which she spent most of her time looking anywhere but at him. But she had gradually come around, towards the end, even shaking his hand before she left. He didn't think they'd ever progress to kissing one another on the cheek. Then again, Brian didn't even kiss her. She just didn't seem to be the kissing type. She'd taken hold of Brian's arm that night and squeezed it slightly, then walked out into the hallway.

Before they left, she retrieved two packages from beneath a very tasteful tree decorated with lacy, frilly ornaments reminiscent of the Victorian Age. When Justin mentioned that, she beamed. "That's this year's theme: Victorian Christmas," and he smiled thinking about what Brian had said about her and her themes. Even though theirs wasn't as fancy, he thought somehow it was more beautiful. Their tree.

Again, as they left, she squeezed Brian's arm and the man did something unexpected: he kissed her on the cheek. The surprise she felt showed on her face. "Merry Christmas, Mom."

"Merry Christmas, Brian. And Justin. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Kinney."

Brian said nothing as they buckled up and headed off to their next errand. But a faint smile hovered about his lips. 

 

True to Justin's word, Molly did have a present for Brian. Actually, it was from Molly and Jen although Jen assured him that Molly had picked it out herself. Giving the little girl a peck on the cheek, Brian thanked her and promised he wouldn't open it until Christmas morning.

"I wish you were coming with us," Jen said to Justin. "Grandma asked for you at Thanksgiving."

Saying nothing, Brian got Molly to show him her room, feigning an interest in her collection of horse figurines. A collection to which he and Justin were contributing.

Downstairs Justin tried to explain to his mom why he couldn't go with her to Connecticut. "I belong here, with him."

"He has a family too."

"Me, Mom. I'm his family. And he's mine."

She relented. "I just- - I miss you. At the holidays."

He understood. "I'm here now," he smiled and told her how well her recipe for Kate Hepburn brownies had turned out at Thanksgiving.

"Well, you can thank Kate Hepburn, not me."

"Next time I see her, I will," he laughed.

As he and Brian drove home, the man looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "You should go. If you want to. It's no big deal."

Justin didn't believe a word of what he'd said. "It is to me. This is our first Christmas together. I can see my grandmother anytime." As Brian stopped at the traffic light, Justin reached in his pocket and held a sprig of mistletoe over his head. Laughing, Brian met him in a kiss. 

 

**Monday, December 24th - Christmas Eve**

Although he'd wanted to get off early, as the afternoon wore on he found himself with more and more to do before he officially went on his Christmas holiday. Looking at the pile of work on his desk, he resigned himself to being there until the bitter end. A deep breath and he took out his cell and called Justin. "I'm not getting out of here until five, if then. I'll meet you at home. Later." Listened to Justin's goodbye and then hung up. Before he had a chance to delve back into the pile, there was a knock at the door. "Yeah," he called out, thinking it was strange that Ryder hadn't just knocked and come in as he usually did. And Cynthia never knocked unless he was in there with someone. He looked up as his visitor entered the room. Hesitated but a moment. "Get out."

Cam paused.

"I don't want to hear it. Just go."

"I can't do that."

Brian stood and walked towards him intending to show him the door but Cam had other ideas. Grabbing hold of the ad exec's arm, Cam kissed him hard, his hand gradually releasing Brian and sliding around his shoulders as the other man showed no desire to escape from him. They backed up against the door, mouths still crushed against one another. Oh, God. . ., thought Cam. I've got him. But then something changed. He felt the change in Brian, in the way he responded to the kiss. Or didn't respond. Brian returned none of the passion, the fervor. It felt as if Cam were kissing a mannequin. Breaking off contact, he stepped back. Brian's eyes were expressionless although his lips were pink, the contrast unsettling because Cam now knew the truth. The lips, the hands, the cock might tell the world's tallest tale but the eyes never lied. It had always been that way with Brian. Cam looked down. "I'm sorry."

Brian said nothing, just moved away from the door and waited.

"Bri. . ." he began, then stopped. Blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry I messed things up for us."

"You didn't," Brian replied in a kinder tone than Cam would have thought he'd use. "You were right. We weren't meant to be, Cam. We were just kids, we didn't know what the fuck we were doing."

"And you do now?" he asked.

"No," said Brian with a small smile. "I'm still winging it. But the one thing I do know is that me and Justin, we're good together. We're the best. And I can't imagine my life without him anymore. I know it won't be smooth always." He gave a little laugh. "It hasn't been so far. But he and I, we work at it. Really hard, Cam. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, being with him. But it's the best thing I've ever done. I feel. . . like my life is just starting. I can't give that up." He reached out and touched Cam's face, stroked his lips. "You're still a great kisser."

Cam chuckled. "Not good enough, though," he admitted sadly. "I guess us being friends. . ."

"I don't have a problem with that. As long as that's what you mean. Nothing else."

Again Cam laughed. "Maybe not," he said, a look of chagrin on his face. Shook his head. "You're just too damn beautiful." He closed the distance between them, kissed Brian softly. "Bye, Bri."

And Brian returned the kiss. "Bye." Opened the door and closed it after the man had gone. Held the handle for a few seconds longer than was necessary, then returned to his desk.

Cynthia appeared. "What are you still doing here? Thought you were leaving early."

He picked up a file rather listlessly. Put it back on the pile. Looked up and grinned. "You're right. You wanna go have a drink with me?"

She arched an eyebrow. "What about Justin?"

"We'll go pick him up. Have a pre-Christmas cocktail."

As she turned to retrieve her things from her desk, she murmured, "I think some of us are already getting more cock and tail than we know what to do with."

"Never," he assured her. "No such thing as enough. And definitely no such thing as me not knowing what to do with it." 

 

As they lay entwined on the couch watching the Christmas tree sparkle, Justin said, "I wish we had a fireplace."

"Don't I keep you warm enough?"

Justin ran his hand along Brian's bare flank, the heat from his skin like a thermal blanket. "It's romantic," he explained. "Making love on a bearskin rug in front of the fire."

"Your bare skin catching fire because you're too close to the flames."

Laughing, Justin asked, "Is this the voice of experience talking?"

Unwilling to admit anything, Brian replied, "Let's just say the fact that the loft didn't have a fireplace was a big selling point."

He settled down for a while and then spoke up again. "We didn't forget anyone did we?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

Justin snuggled up to Brian's side again. "It's getting chilly."

The man reached up and drew the throw over them. "Better?"

"Mm-hm."

Brian waited, sure Justin wasn't through. And he wasn't.

"I can't wait to see Gus open his presents tomorrow." They were due at Lindsay's place at seven to see Gus attack the Christmas tree. Brian had gotten him a little camera since the baby seemed fascinated by his and Justin had bought him a paint set for little people. Non-toxic and water-soluble, it came with special paper that could be wiped off and reused. Which would make Lindz and Mel happy. And Brian promised to take lots of pictures even though Mel would have the camcorder out as well. By the time Gus was five, they'd have so many pictures of him, they'd have to open a museum just to house them all. "What time is it?"

The older man craned his neck to look at the clock on the DVD player. "Eleven fifty-nine."

Justin sat up and waited until the clock changed to twelve, then kissed Brian deeply. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, baby." With a twinkle in his eye, he asked, "Where's my present?"

Panicked, Justin said, "I thought you- -" Understood. Smiled. Kissed his lover again and crawled off him, stood to the side of the sofa and held out his hand. "Come on."

Taking it, Brian followed the boy to their bedroom, lips curled in a smile as he watched the round buttocks precede him. Of its own accord, his hand reached out and pinched one. Justin jumped and laughed. Merry Christmas indeed. 

 

**Tuesday, December 25th - Christmas Day**

If Gus had been hyper on his birthday, he was supersonic today, the twinkling lights, brightly-colored wrapping paper, and cheerful music sending him into toddler overdrive. Brian and Mel were hard-pressed to keep up with him as he demolished the pile of presents beneath the tree. They were all marked with his name as the women had wisely removed the ones for them before setting him loose. As expected, although his eyes lit up with every gift he uncovered, when he got to the one Brian had bought him, he carried the box to his daddy and demanded that Brian open it for him. The camera removed, the baby spent the next fifteen minutes following his Da da around snapping picture after picture of the tree, what was left of the presents, his mommies, Pooh, and Beh. Gus loved the fact that the camera made a real sound, squealing with delight every time it went click. Even Mel thought it was cute.

"You always find the perfect gift, don't you?" she asked, remembering how excited Michael had been at his birthday party when Captain Astro had appeared with a Captain Astro number 1 comic book. She and Lindz hadn't opened the presents Brian and Justin had gotten them but she was sure they'd be perfect.

Brian shrugged. "I'm an advertiser. It's my job to know what people want.

"And give it to them?"

He grinned. "If I'm in a good mood."

"So what'd you give Justin?"

Brian replied softly, "Nothing. He didn't want anything."

Thinking she'd caught him, she asked, "And what'd he give you?"

"Nothing. I didn't want anything."

Confused, she was interrupted before she could question him further by Gus who wanted her to take a picture with Beah. 

 

On the way to meet the guys, Brian said to Justin, "Mel asked me what I'd gotten you for Christmas."

"And. . . ?"

"And I told her you didn't want anything."

Glancing over at him, Justin said, "That's what I said."

Brian checked the rearview mirror and made a lane change. "Just felt weird, that's all." Waited until the light changed and turned left. "You sure you didn't want something?"

The teen brushed Brian's bangs from his forehead, fingers lingering by his temple. "I have everything I want."

Turned out Mel wasn't the only one who found it hard to believe that the two men hadn't exchanged gifts. Both Michael and Ted thought it was a little strange that neither of them had gotten the other anything, a token of their affection, a joke gift, something.

"We're going to Europe in six months," Justin explained. "Besides that, I'm just glad that we're together. What could be better than that?"

"Exactly," agreed Em, the only one of the guys to understand. "What do gifts matter when you have true love?"

And then Ted started teasing them about true love, doing the Bishop from The Princess Bride who had a speech impediment. "Wuve, twue wuve."

Michael added his two cents. "Twue wuve aside, what could the Boy Wonder get Brian that he doesn't already have?"

Brian frowned. "You didn't get me a present, did you?" They hadn't exchanged gifts yet, waiting until this afternoon at Deb's.

"Yeah, I did," said Mikey.

"So, obviously, your logic is flawed," he pointed out.

"Oh."

Finally, Justin had had enough. "Could we drop it? I'm sure there are better things to talk about than what Brian and I did or didn't get each other for Christmas." There was silence around the table. Justin stared at Brian waiting for him to come up with something.

"Any bets for the Rose Bowl?"

The silence deepened.

Brian lifted one shoulder and grimaced. 

 

Having agreed to meet at Deb's at two, the guys went their separate ways, Brian and Justin headed for home to hang out (read: fuck) until it was time to go. About five blocks from the loft, Brian pulled into a convenience store parking lot.

"Gas?" Justin checked the gauge, remembering that they'd stopped yesterday he thought. Maybe it was the day before. No, it was yesterday. The Jeep was full.

"No." He opened his door. "Come on. We're finding presents."

Amused and a little confused, Justin followed.

Once they were in the store, Brian explained. "We've got five minutes each to find something for one another. And it'd better be perfect."

Getting into it, Justin added, "And no peeking."

"No peeking."

For the next ten minutes they scoured the store until they'd both found something. Making their purchases while the other one looked the other way, they clasped their bags protectively and climbed into the Jeep.

In the loft, they retreated to separate corners and wrapped their gifts, then placed them beneath the tree. Taking a moment to look at their bounty in the midst of the rest of the presents, they each went to the tree and pretended to search for their present, feigning excitement when it was located. They carried them to the bedroom and sat on the bed, facing one another.

"You first," said Justin.

"No. Together."

"Together. One. Two. Three!" On three, they tore off the wrapping paper and laughed.

Brian had gotten Justin a Duraflame log, the kind people used in their fireplaces, and written on the card, "Save it, you'll be able to use it someday."

"Someday soon?" Justin asked hopefully.

"That depends on what we can find and what I can get for this place and how much we spend on Europe and if I get a raise next fiscal year. . ." His explanations were cut off as Justin gave him a huge kiss.

"I love you." He ran his fingers over the wrapper covering the log, dreaming of the day when they had their own house with a fireplace. Then, remembering that he wasn't the only one to have received a gift, asked, "Do you like yours?"

Brian smiled softly. Held his present in his hands. It was a mug with "#1 Daddy" on it and was filled with Hershey Kisses. Just a year ago he would have said that the sentiment was unearned, but this year, this year he really had become a good daddy. "It's the best, baby."

Sliding into Brian's arms, Justin said, "Cause you are." He grinned mischievously. "How about a kiss?" Brian reached into the cup but Justin stopped him. "Uh-uh." Kissed him on the lips. "Mmmm, much better." 

 

The time for them to depart and go over to Deb's came way too soon- - especially since they had to shower and dress again after playing for an hour or so. As they sauntered up the walkway, Brian said, "I remember how I used to come over here on Christmas Day after going through this horrible holiday farce at my house and I couldn't believe how wonderful everything seemed. Even if they didn't have a lot, Mikey and Deb always had the best Christmases. I always wanted to have a Christmas like that." He kissed Justin gently. "Thanks, baby."

Vic threw open the door just as they parted. Called back over his shoulder, "Pour two glasses of wine quick, I think these two need cooling off." He ushered them in and gave each of them quick hugs. "Merry Christmas."

They returned the sentiment, waving to Mikey and the guys, and removed their coats, added their presents to the gifts under the tree. Now that Michael was no longer a kid, Deb waited until after dinner to open presents. It was the fellowship, not the finery she always said and it was true.

Leaving the stove, she caught both of the new arrivals in her arms and hugged them hard. "Merry Christmas. So," she said as she released them, "did you go by your mom's place?"

"Which mom?" Justin asked.

"I know Jen's gone out of town. I meant Joanie." She waited for Brian to reply. Justin left them and went over by the guys.

"I dropped by Sunday."

"You're not going by today?"

"Claire's gonna be there and I'd rather not see her. Lindz and Mel are taking Gus by to see her this evening I think."

"You two still doing okay?"

"Yeah," he assured her. "I think it might actually work out this time." He turned hearing Emmett laugh. Saw Justin grinning and knew that the teen had told them what they'd gotten one another for Christmas. 

 

Having opened their presents at Deb and hung out watching The Grinch while scarfing down seconds and thirds on dessert, the two men returned home full as ticks. Groaning as he dropped two Alka-Seltzer into a glass of water, Brian said, "I'm glad we fooled around earlier cause all I want to do now is lie down and die." He sat on the bed gingerly and eased onto his back.

Justin laid down next to him and pushed up his shirt. Rubbed his belly. "Your tummy hurt?"

"Mmm-hmm."

It was pooched out a bit, as was his own. Continuing to rub Brian's stomach, Justin closed his eyes. Then the phone rang. Brian muttered something about not getting it even if it was God himself so Justin crawled over him, got up, and answered it. "Hello? Yes." Frowned. "Yeah, I'll- - Okay."

Brian thought there was something odd about the teenager's voice but he figured he'd find out soon enough what it was.

"Okay," he said again. "Thanks." Put the phone down and just stood there, unable to move.

Without opening his eyes, Brian asked, "Who was it?"

"Tommy Pearce."

Brian sat up. "Who?"

Quietly, Justin replied, "The Living Ken Doll."

"What'd he- -" He felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach. Swung his legs around, off the bed. "Where is he?"

"Brian- -"

"Where is he?" He waited for the answer but he already knew the answer. "No." Shook his head. "Oh God." Swallowed. "How?"

"Car accident. Last night."

"I just saw him yesterday."

Justin didn't say anything about the fact that Brian had neglected to mention that to him. He hadn't exactly been truthful about Xavier, had he? "You okay?" Brian hadn't shed a tear but he looked as if he were fighting the urge.

"I just saw him," he repeated as if he couldn't believe that Cam was really gone. Sniffled. "I should call Mikey. He and Cam used to be close. Before. . . Before. . ." Brian lowered his head and felt the first of the tears fall. He sensed Justin moving towards him and wiped his face. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not," Justin pointed out. "It's all right if you aren't."

"I'm okay," Brian reiterated. "I'm okay." He picked up the phone and held it for a few moments, then dialed Michael.

Justin left the room. Went to put on some tea. It was all he could do. He heard Brian speaking, knew that he was telling Michael the news, and he began to cry. What if that had been him calling people instead of Tommy, calling Brian's friends to tell them Brian was dead? He didn't think he could do it, he'd just curl up in a corner of the bed and go to sleep and hope that he'd never wake up again. After a while, Brian appeared, all signs of grief gone from his face, except for the pain in his eyes, which he couldn't quite erase. Without saying a word, he took Justin into his arms and held him, trembling like a leaf in the autumn breeze. 

 

**Thursday, December 27th**

_The wind's blowing so fuckin' hard, and it's so cold, I can't feel my face. I guess that's a good thing. Can't imagine it looks any different from anyone else's. Except that I've cried away all the tears I had for Cam a long time ago. There's nothing left. There shouldn't be._

_How long does it take to bury someone? I don't understand why it takes so long. Took forever to put my old man in the ground and there wasn't a single, solitary good thing to say about him. When I go, I want them to burn me down to nothing. I don't even want there to be ashes for someone to cry over. Just leave me in the fire 'til there's nothing left. Cause I don't want him sitting in a house somewhere cradling some fuckin' urn._

_I wish Justin had come. But he didn't know Cam, not really, no point in making him stand out in the cold with me. No point in making him go through this for a stranger. For an ex-lover of mine. For the only ex-lover I ever had. . . Least I won't have to go through this for him._

_Please, God, don't let me have to go through this for him._

_Tommy wanted me to say something at the funeral but I said no. I couldn't stand in front of these people and talk about him. The life we had was ours, no one else's. And how could I make them understand what we were about? How could I tell them about us without telling them everything? And once I started talking, I don't know if I'd be able to stop. And some things, they don't want to hear. I know that. Some things, I don't want to tell. I can't tell._

_Finally, it's over. All that's left is to throw a handful of dirt over the coffin, toss a flower on top of it, and go home. Say goodbye and go home. And try to forget that he was only thirty years old, that at one time he meant more to me than my own life, that no matter what I won't ever forget him, can't ever forget him._

_I bought a red rose at the flower shop on the way to the funeral. Cam loved roses. Used to say they reminded him of me. Beautiful but prickly. I can't feel the thorns through my gloves. Maybe that's the way you deal with prickly things, with gloves on._

_It's my turn. I can sense the people behind me waiting impatiently. Fuck 'em. Let 'em wait. Because I don't know what to say. I don't know what to say and there's no. . . time. And now the tears come when everyone's staring at me and I just- - What am I supposed to say? That I remember. . ._

_I remember the first time we had dinner at The Marketplace, you were wearing a grey sweater and it made your eyes look so dark, so mysterious, I spent the whole evening staring into them. I don't even remember what we had to eat, what we talked about, I just remember how much I loved your eyes._

_I remember having the flu and you came over with the God awfullest, worst tasting chicken soup imaginable that you had made yourself and I was so sick and so glad to see you that I ate it all even though it made my stomach ache and then I had a stomach ache on top of everything else- - but you made it. That shitty chicken soup. For me._

_For some reason I've taken off one of my gloves and I'm holding the rose in my bare hand and the thorns cut into my fingers and I'm bleeding but I don't feel a thing because it's so cold._

_I remember. . ._

_Us stopping the car on a road trip to Philly, just pulling beside the road and fucking for ten minutes, until the urge had been satisfied, until we could drive on without thinking about our dicks for another hour or so._

_Running in the pouring rain and stripping once we got inside. Hair dripping wet. Climbing into the shower and steaming up the bathroom. Making love until the hot water ran out._

_I remember hanging up after you told me it was over, that there was no need to meet, that we were through. I remember going to bed and wondering if I'd ever be happy again. Wondering if I should just end it all and not doing it because I couldn't be sure that you wouldn't change your mind and come back._

_Someone touches me on the shoulder and I feel like pushing them away but I don't. Justin would chew me out for starting a fight at a funeral. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Cam is gone. Whatever we had together is over. All that's left are memories and I can't live on memories. So I toss the rose on the coffin and whisper, "Bye, Cam," and leave._

_When I get home Justin is waiting there, just like I'd hoped, just like I need. He asks me if I'm all right and I just hold him. He's so strong. Stronger than I've ever been. God, I love him. No matter what else I've done in my life, no matter how many times I've fucked up, I've done something right. I've done this right. I've done this right. . ._

 

**Monday, December 31st - New Year's Eve**

Surveying the loft with satisfaction, Brian looked around to congratulate his little boy and saw that Justin was talking with the ice sculptor. He would be. The guy was good. Even though the party was starting late in the night, he hoped the ice sculpture would last until midnight without melting too much. It was beautiful. Michelangelo's David. It'd been a surprise for Justin. One for which the teenager had been instantly grateful. He'd kissed Brian right in front of the workmen, a huge smile on his face, so bright Brian had thrown an arm in front of his eyes in mock discomfort and teased, "Justin, with your smile so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

As the men had laughed, Justin had replied, "Your sleigh and anything else you have in mind."

"Mmm, see me later. Around midnight."

"It's a date."

Now, with the last of the deliveries made, with all of the last-minute preparations and decorating done, the last of the workmen leaving, and the DJ setting up, Justin and Brian stood in the middle of the floor, amazed at how beautiful everything looked. Black and silver balloons hung all around the loft, as well as black and silver streamers. The color scheme was carried through to the vinyl tablecloths, the silver buckets placed around to hold the empty shells once guests were through with their oysters and shrimp, the party hats and favors that awaited on every flat surface in sight, the huge "Happy New Year 2002" banner draped across the window, and in the hosts' wardrobe. Justin was dazzling in a grey sweater shot through with silver threads that sparkled every time he moved and tight, black jeans that showed off his high, round behind to perfection. Brian held court in a black low-necked sweater that exposed his neck and shoulders paired with shiny, metallic grey slacks. "We're like Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum," Brian complained.

"We're a couple," Justin explained.

"Ahhh, a couple," Brian repeated in fake awe.

And Justin pushed him lightly and then went over to rearrange some pillows on the sofa. Brian hoped the first guests arrived soon. He was anxious to get this party started and over with. Come two a.m., they were all leaving, no matter what. He had things to do. They hadn't invited many people, only fifty people, which meant probably seventy-five would actually show up including significant others and last-minute lovers. The invitations said the party lasted from 10 to 2 and that's what he meant. While Justin fluffed pillows, he made sure that there were plenty of condoms in the festive silver and black bowls he'd picked up at the party supply store. If people were going to fuck, they might as well do it responsibly. Plus, he didn't want to have to clean other people's cum stains from the furniture. Or the bed. Just once he regretted not having a regular bedroom with a door that could be locked. It was funny, before he and Justin hooked up, he could have cared less but now, now it felt strange having people fucking in their bed. Maybe he should put up a sign. Taking out Justin's sketch pad, Brian found a magic marker and wrote on a sheet, "Off-Limits". As he placed it on the bed, he wondered if anyone would pay any attention to it or if they'd just brush it out of the way and continue with their activities. Well, it was too late to think about it now. As is, they'd changed the linens, putting on old ones that they never used.

Around nine forty-five, Michael and Jeff, and Ted and Emmett arrived. And lo and behold, Ted and Emmett had dates. Ted was with some twinky in his twenties, slender, blond, dead ringer for Blake. Brian resolved not to mention that fact unless he wanted Justin to ream him out in front of the guests. Emmett had found some hunky top who looked as if he ate leather. Brian could imagine what their after-New Year's activities would include. He smiled. No one could guess what he had planned.

"What are you grinning about?" Michael asked, having left Jeff with the guys. They were studying the ice sculpture.

"Nothing."

"Yeah, I bet." Looked around. "This is nice. I guess all the place needed was an artistic touch," he said, referring to Justin.

"Guess so."

Michael stared at him. "You feeling okay?"

"Why?"

"You look a little flushed."

"Must have been the Cosmopolitan I had."

Giving him the once-over again, Michael agreed, if not wholeheartedly. "Yeah. Must have been." At a signal from Jeff, he left Brian to spend a little quality time with the reporter before the other guests arrived.

By the time the next group of people knocked on the door, the DJ had cranked it up, filling the loft with a hot and throbbing beat guaranteed to get the blood pumping. Come a quarter after ten and the apartment was comfortably filled with dancing bodies. Brian walked around making sure the seafood stayed cool, that the shell buckets weren't full, that no one was puking in the corner, and that the bartender wasn't overwhelmed. The champagne had already begun to flow. He also had to keep an ear on the buzzer. Both he and Justin hovered near the door as often as possible to let in guests stealing kisses in between duties.

The DJ kept things moving and in no time it was 11:45. Brian cut on the TV and found the Dick Clark Rockin' New Year's Eve Party and turned the sound off. No one wanted to listen to 'NSync except for Justin. So they danced to The Chemical Brothers and The Crystal Method while Dick and crew went through the motions counting down the year. When 11:59 came, Justin and Brian found each other amongst the crowd and waited until Mayor Rudy pushed the button and the ball dropped. Telling one another "Happy New Year," they kissed while their guests did the same or yelled or blew on their noisemakers or tossed confetti in the air and the DJ played a dance remix of "Auld Lange Syne". But they could have been in the middle of a desert for all of the attention the two hosts paid their guests and the activities going on around them.

"I love you."

"I love you."

Heads together, they smiled and told themselves that two o'clock would come sooner than they'd think.

The party wound down after twelve thirty and it looked as if they might have everyone out not too soon after one, a whole hour early. Then a group of guys started stripping and it looked like they might have an orgy on their hands but Brian went over and whispered in someone's ear and the ringleader crooked his finger and the six left.

After that most of the guests began trickling out, finishing off champagne and shrimp cocktails before leaving. Just as they were the first to arrive, the guys were the last to go. Although they offered to stay and clean up, Brian assured them that he and the Boy Wonder would get up tomorrow and do it and that if they wanted to come over around noon, the help would be appreciated. It was with great relief that he paid the DJ and saw the man to his car, helping him with his equipment and waving goodbye as he drove away in a Saturn sports coupe. He returned upstairs stretching his neck to work the kinks out.

Found Justin emptying shells from the buckets into a huge trash bag. Wordlessly he went around and ferreted out any that had escaped the buckets. That's all they would do tonight. Least they wouldn't wake up to the smell of fish permeating the air.

Kicking balloons out of the way, Brian searched for the remote and turned off the television. Felt Justin come up behind him and slide his arms around his waist, lay his head on his back. "Tired?"

"Nope," mumbled the teen. He was hoping to spend the first of the year making love.

They wandered over to the window and stood looking out over the night, a full moon above, buildings lit up despite the late hour.

"Last year was good," Justin said, "but I hope this year is better."

"Me too." Brian looked down at his lover and took a deep breath. It was now or never. The moment had arrived and time had run out. _Can I do this?_ Then Justin glanced up at him and smiled. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it." Justin closed his eyes. Trembling, Brian reached into his pocket. "Hold out your hand." The teen complied. Hesitating just a moment, Brian placed two objects on Justin's palm. "Open 'em." He held his breath.

Justin opened his eyes and could hardly breathe. He stared at his hand, at the items he held. Looked up at Brian. He was aware that his mouth was probably hanging open and yet he couldn't close it. Finally, he found his voice. "What is this?"

"What does it look like?"

Eyes back on his palm, Justin said softly, "They look like wedding rings."

Brian swallowed, nodded.

"For us?"

"Who else?"

On their own, his fingers closed over the bands and he could feel the smooth edges press into his flesh. Opened his fingers and looked at the rings again. They were platinum or white gold, Justin guessed, heavy with some kind of design running around the middle.

"Celtic knot," Brian explained.

"They're beautiful."

Brian's lips were so dry, he licked them, then asked, "So what do you think?"

Wanting to yell, 'Yes!' Justin made himself take a mental step back and asked, "Why now?"

He'd expected that. Hell, if he'd asked himself to accept a ring it's what he would have asked. Nothing but the truth would do. "Because I love you." But that wasn't all. "This past year was. . . incredible. And not in a good way. Not all of it. The things we went through. . . I'm amazed that we made it. But we did. We made it. If we could go through all of that shit and still be together, then maybe, maybe we should be. Always. I can't imagine being with anyone else. I don't want to be with anyone else. Me. Brian fuckin' Kinney. Settling down. But it's a new year and a new beginning and I want it to be with you." He chuckled a little. "It won't always be easy."

"Never has been," Justin said, laughing and sniffling at the same time.

"But that's us. And I want everyone to know. That we're together."

"You think someone might try to steal me away?"

"You're not going anywhere," Brian replied, full of confidence.

And Justin agreed. "No. I'm not." He wiped at his eyes. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah. I am." He raised an eyebrow. "You?"

A smile spread across his face. Rings. Him and Brian, committed to one another. He nodded. "Yeah."

Brian picked up one of the rings, looked inside. "Engraved. This one's yours."

Looking at the remaining ring, the one for Brian, Justin read, "Forever Faithful, Justin." The words filled him with a strength he wouldn't have believed was possible, just from words.

"Hold out your hand."

Justin extended his hand, fingers spread slightly. With little fanfare, Brian slipped the ring onto his finger yet Justin tingled all over. "Now you."

When Brian had held out his hand, Justin slid on the band and shivered. 'Forever Faithful.' That's what the ring said, that's what they had promised. Forever. He felt the warm metal against his face as Brian touched him, kissed him. They embraced and he never wanted to loosen his hold on the slender man in his arms. But they eventually parted and stood holding hands. "I love you." Noticed something different. "It's gone."

Brian knew what he was speaking about. The bracelet. He'd taken it off this evening as he dressed. "That was the past."

"Wait here."

Before he could ask, Justin had gone. When he returned, the teenager held a small box in his hand. Handed it to Brian. "What is it?"

"Open it."

Removing the top, Brian smiled. It was a sterling silver wrap cuff bracelet, plain, no decorations, opened at the ends so that it could slide on his wrist and be adjusted to fit as snugly or loosely as he wanted.

"I got it for you, for Christmas but then we decided not to exchange gifts, so I figured I'd save it for your birthday," Justin explained. He took it out of its box and placed it on Brian's wrist. Closed it and smiled.

The bed had remained undisturbed. Stripping it of the old linens, they remade it and drew back the covers.

There had been a moment, he had to admit to himself, when he hadn't been certain that Justin would accept the ring and all that went with it. After all, he was only eighteen and, at that age, it was a huge undertaking, to commit yourself to one person, forsaking all others. Christ, at any age it was a big deal. But he had known, standing in the jewelry store, looking at that ring, he'd known that he was ready for it. As expensive as the rings were, he'd paid extra to make sure they were engraved and resized by New Year's Eve. Had gone and picked them up during lunch. Back at the office he'd looked at the rings ten dozen times that afternoon, always with wonder in his eyes and a little trepidation. What if Justin said no? What if he chickened out at the last minute? But by the time he'd left work his resolve had been strengthened. He would go through with it. He'd offer Justin the ring and then wait and see what happened.

Justin had accepted the ring, had accepted him. Forever Faithful. That was his promise, his oath, and he meant to keep it until the end of his days.

Snuggling beneath the sheet, they lay together barely moving, content to kiss and cuddle, something Brian had gotten better about over the months they'd been together.

A ring. He could still hardly believe it, wouldn't have believed it except that the ring was on his finger, on the ring finger of his right hand, and he had to believe. Cupping Brian's face in his hands, he smiled at the contrast between the silver-colored metal and his lover's flushed skin, and then he laughed because he was happy. Happier than he'd ever been. Brian turned and kissed his palm.

They celebrated with their bodies the pledges they'd made by exchanging rings. Bathed in blue light, the two lovers entwined, wrapped arms and legs about one another, a kaleidoscope of motion, unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. And they did. This was their night. Time had stopped just for them. The moon would hold the sun at bay, delay the arrival of the coming morning. The present was their only concern, the feel of a lover's smooth skin, silky hair, and warm breath their only reality.

Justin thought even if he were to forget who he was, forget his name, his purpose in life, still he would remember this, would remember the feel of Brian's body laying along side his own, on top of him, behind him; would remember the sensation of Brian's nipple brushing against his back, Brian's belly sliding over his hip as they shifted positions, his lips on his throat, hands easing between his thighs. His body would remember and welcome his lover home.

Brian could feel Justin's lips traveling over his body, sealing his promise with a kiss, each brush of the teen's lips upon his skin a vow to be kept forever. Forever, that's how long they would have to pleasure, to please one another. He felt like a blank canvas upon which the teenager had drawn the outline of a man, shaping him with his hands and lips, coaxing his features from his heart, and breathing life into him with his love. Justin kissed him again.

"I love you," the younger man said and Brian returned his kiss. And his words.

"I love you." He felt more naked than he'd ever been, more exposed now that the very last barrier had been overcome. Ring on his finger, he had laid bare his soul, all of his defenses disengaged. And yet he felt safer, more secure than he'd ever felt. Totally at peace.

Moaning, "Yes, yes," Justin laid his head back on the pillow as Brian filled him, all of his empty spaces disappearing. Sighing, he ran his hands up his man's lean torso, fingers stroking his wide nipples, moving along either side of his neck to his face, his lips, his cheeks and brow. "I love you," he confessed and even though he'd said it a thousand times before, this time the feeling that accompanied the words was like a blast of pure oxygen and he could barely catch his breath as if he'd been given too much of what he needed to survive. 

 

The first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky, throwing uneven and unreliable beams of light into the loft. Having gotten up and taken care of 'necessities' as Joanie called it, the two partners returned to bed, intending to sleep the morning away, having spent the better part of the new year so far making love. Justin lay in Brian's arms, his back against the older man's chest, and looked at his ring. His ring. It shone even in the wan light. "I can't wait to show everybody," he whispered, not really aware that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud.

Eyes opening, Brian said, "I guess you probably wanted some kind of commitment ceremony," a little alarmed since he didn't think he was ready for that. Didn't think it was necessary really. The rings were proof enough. The words, the vows belonged to them.

"No," Justin replied and, echoing Brian's sentiments, added, "That's between you and me. No one else." Smiled. "I just can't wait until they see it though. My mom won't believe it. Deb won't believe it. Nobody will."

Brian kissed the top of his head. "Happy?" And Justin raised Brian's hand to his lips, his ring hand, and kissed his fingers. "Good. Now go to sleep." With that the man closed his eyes once more and Justin turned over on his chest, face against his bare skin. But he couldn't help taking another look at the ring, glowing in the darkened confines of their bedchamber, its twin on Brian's finger, and his smile spread like sunlight on the sea. "Close your eyes and stop smiling," Brian said, popping him lightly on the butt.

"How do you know I'm smiling?" Justin asked.

"I can feel it," Brian answered, and he smiled as well and then Justin began to laugh and so did he and their laughter filled the loft, clearing out the last of the shadows and bathing everything in a cool, silver light. 

 

"A Thousand Years" music by Sting and Kipper, lyrics by Sting, EMI Music Publishing Ltd./Magnetic Publishing (PRS) from the album _Brand New Day_ , A&M Records, 1999.


End file.
